Desolation, Destruction, Danger, and Despair
by blue peanut m and m
Summary: The mood is somber, it's not a good day, and it's about to get worse as a call comes in for help.
1. Chapter 1

**Desolation, Destruction, Danger, and Despair.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . . The mood is somber, it's not a good day, and it's about to get worse as a call comes in for help.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . . Not mine just borrowing, I promise to return in one piece. . . . . . .well eventually, and maybe dented a little bit.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . Okay so this is my first attempt at a Thunderbirds fic, so please forgive me if I get any technical details wrong. I know there's numerous thoughts as to who's older out of Virgil and John, but I personally like Virgil as the middle brother, so I'm gonna go with that. Also to fit in with this fic, I'm going to have a twist in the first chapter that is definately wrong, but I needed a somber Virgil, and this twist seemed to work the best.**

**I have to send a big shout out and huge thanks to Sammygirl1963, for looking over this for me, that being said I have messed with it afterwards so all mistakes are mine.**

**This is for my Mum, the greatest lady in the whole world.**

**I think I should stop talking now, so without further ado let's get on with the show, make yourself comfortable, and enjoy chapter 1. Peanut x**

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A delicate breeze drifted through the open patio doors, stirring the soft drapes, and filling the room with the scent of the ocean and the bouquet of flowers, made all the more potent by the fresh rainfall that had coated the island overnight. It roused the man sleeping upon the queen sized bed, bringing goose bumps to his bare skin and making him pull the sheets up higher until all that could be seen were a few disheveled tufts of chocolate brown locks. The sound of distant waves crashing against rocks competed against the gentle noise of the man's breathing in the otherwise quiet of the room until the soft chords of classical piano beckoned for a new day to begin. A tanned and muscular arm quickly reached out, digits which normally sought out snooze fumbling to find the off button, a need to end the sonata that usually brought such happy thoughts and memories, but which today brought nothing but heartache. Disturbing the sheets slightly, Virgil Tracy turned beneath the covers, the hand that had sneaked out, returning to be placed over his eyes blocking out what little sunlight filtered through the cotton, whilst at the same time, hiding from sight eyes that had turned damp as the first chords were struck. With a weary sigh, he slowly composed his features, and gradually removed the sheet further down his body, knowing from past experience that if he didn't show some sort of sign that he was awake and up, one or more of his brother's would soon be paying him an unwelcome visit.

He shouts out as he hears footsteps approaching his room, knowing from the chuckles that follow his announcement that it was Gordon that had picked the short straw and lost the bet this time. None of his brother's relishing the chore of entering his room and trying to rouse a sleeping Virgil, a chore that resembled wrestling with a Mother bear at times, as Virgil's usually calm demeanor deteriorated into aggressive anger at being torn from the sleep he loved. The thought of a Mother bear turns his attention to the photos that adorn his bedside table, and one picture in particular; a picture that brings back all the hurt and sorrow of the sonata, tears springing to his eyes once more as he removes his arm and stares at a face that so closely resembles his own, his thoughts drifting to another time, another place. A time and place where on this day, everyone was happy, where on this day music and laughter could be heard from sunrise to sunset, where on this day a warm body sat next to his own on the small leather bench, as hands moved gracefully across ebony and ivory, where on this day love shone down from a face bathed in happiness. A splash and a cry of injustice from outside, break through his reminiscing, his eyes tearing away from the photo of his Mother and onto the digital readout that stands beside it, signifying the time and the date for all to see. "Happy Birthday Mom," he whispers morosely before standing and making his way through his pristine room and over to his private bathroom, glancing at the mirror as he does so, sweeping away the errant tears that had fallen and replacing the mask upon his features, the least he can do is pretend to be happy.

He hurries all the more as he hears footsteps returning to his room, knowing instinctively this time that it is his eldest brother Scott that has been sent to wake him. Locking the bathroom door he quickly divests of his shorts and turns on the shower before stepping in, knowing the mask he is wearing, is still not good enough yet to fool his closest sibling. He relishes the minutes he spends standing under the hot spray, allowing the forceful rivulets to pound against his tense shoulders before stepping back slightly, his hands braced against the cool tiles, the water now drenching his chestnut hair, the excess running down his features mingling with the salt water now dripping in earnest. He stays that way a few minutes longer before releasing a held in breath on a deep sorrow filled sigh. Grabbing the soap he washes away the sweat, tears, dirt and grief. Prolonging drying, he rearranges the mask that has once more fallen, before wiping at the moisture filled glass of his mirror, still not wishing to set eyes upon himself, but knowing that Scott would not stay patient for much longer, Virgil knowing without a doubt that his brother now lounged upon the bed he himself had not so long ago slept upon. Picking up his razor, he hesitates as he catches sight of his haunted features, blurred by the moisture that refuses to give up without a battle. He gives himself a wry grin before muttering once again words he had spoken earlier, only the last one changing "Happy Birthday Virgil."

Finishing the rest of his morning routine, he wraps a towel around his waist before reaching for the handle, his hand hesitating before turning, wishing he could stay locked in here for the rest of the day, sleeping here and waking with a new day, a new day that didn't bring with it such sorrow, but deep down he knew that dream was yet another in his short life that would never come true, so forcing a smile upon his face he turned the handle, the smile falling as his eyes rested upon his eldest brother.

"Damn it Scott! I hate it when you look through them without permission." Virgil shouted, rushing across the room and snatching one of his sketch books from his sibling's hands, smoothing down the pages reverently, as he places it back upon his desk.

"Yeah, I know, but if I can't wind up my kid brother on his birthday, when can I?" Scott replied joyfully trying to lighten the mood, surprised at the extent of his brother's anger. Sure Virgil didn't like anyone looking at his sketches, but he'd never gotten that angry before. He looked at his brothers back as Virgil rooted around his drawers for something to wear. He noted the scars that lined the otherwise smooth tanned skin, some a testament to their dangerous work, some not. He noted the tenseness of his muscles, wondering if he should ask what was wrong, but knowing that it really wasn't worth it. His brother's defenses were risen, he could tell from the firm set of his shoulders, and he didn't care what the others said about himself, Scott knew the real truth, Virgil was without a doubt the most stubborn of all the Tracy's, well once you took Grandma out of the equation. He had an idea anyway, and did he really want to reopen those never to be healed wounds? No, he sighed to himself, just like last year and all the years previous they just had to get through the day, trying as they did so to make it as pleasant as possible for his brother.

"You gonna be practicing after breakfast?" He asked, once again trying to lighten the mood, knowing he had failed as he watched his brother's back stiffen even more, his hands pausing in their task.

Virgil took a few minutes to steady his voice before replying, trying to calm the stutter he could feel working its way out. How could they never see that the piano was, on this day, always avoided, just like his brushes and paints? "No. . . . . . . . . No." He coughed to clear his throat, before adding. "I think I'll give it a miss today, my wrist is still a bit sore from that last rescue, you know?"

"Oh, okay." Scott replied, shocked to hear that his sibling would not be trying to get some practice in on their downtime. Also at the fact that Virgil had injured himself, he'd never mentioned it at debriefing, and hadn't he been using it to play yesterday? Choosing to ignore the obvious lie, Scott added. "You want me to take a look at it, or maybe Brains?"

"No, it's just a bit tender. It'll be okay. Scott, do you mind, Grandma will send up a search party in a minute if we don't get down there." Virgil stated, holding out his clothes so that his sibling would get the message and leave while he dressed, his eyes unable to meet his brother's.

Scott stood as he looked back at his brother, unease growing within him, what was going on? What was troubling his sibling so? Was it just the day, or was there something else going on? Deciding to take a chance he asked. "Are you okay Virg?" Stooping a little to try and meet those brown orbs that could never lie to him, unable to see them though as Virgil turned away.

"Sure Scott. I just didn't sleep well; maybe I'll feel more alive after some of Grandma's pancakes." Virgil replied, planting a fake smile upon his face and praying that it came across in his tone for his brother to hear.

Scott through could read right through the disguise, his legs moving as though to go towards where Virgil still had his back to him, but what would he say? Somehow all the words that felt right seemed to become stuck in his throat, the Tracy way of dealing with feelings preventing him from saying them, so instead he turned away from his sibling and towards the door, glancing back as he reached for the handle, saddened to see his brother's back still turned towards him. "I guess I'll see you down there then. Don't be too long, otherwise those pancakes you so desperately want might not be there." As he walked through the doorway he added. "Happy Birthday Virg."

Virgil's hand flung out at his sibling's last words, gripping the desk he stood next to, his fingers curling around the hard oak until his knuckles were white, his breathing stuttered and harsh as he choked back yet more tears. He could do this, it was just one day, and it wasn't like he hadn't done it before. He could get through it, just like he had every other year, avoiding everyone after he got through breakfast, by locking himself within his studio with the excuse that an idea had formed and needed to be written down, or drawn, only for him to lock the door, retreat to the couch within and stare morosely at a view that would normally enthrall him. With that blessed relief in mind, he dressed quickly and started for the kitchen.

Virgil sat back as he listened to his siblings laugh and joke at the breakfast table, his hand mindlessly toying with the food upon his plate, his mind wondering how long he would have to stay before it would be polite to excuse himself. Not even his Grandma's cooking, which normally would be an excuse for him to linger all the longer, could break through his somber mood, the food tasteless and dry, his orange juice drained and topped up twice now in an effort to choke down his meal. He wanted to join in his brother's fun, wanted to laugh along with them as Alan retold of his payback earlier on his next oldest brother, but laughing seemed to take too much precious energy; precious energy Virgil couldn't spare, all his strength being used to keep up his façade.

He startled as Scott nudged his leg under the table, his hand knocking over his juice glass, spilling what little contents remained. "Damn it!" He swore before turning apologetic eyes his Grandmother's way. "Sorry Grandma." He whispered as he attempted to mop up the mess with paper napkins.

She looked at her middle grandchild with concern as she replied. "That's okay Virgil, you finish your breakfast you've hardly touched a bite. I'll go get a wet cloth and this will be all fine in a jiffy."

Concern was also etched upon Jeff Tracy's features, as well as those of his eldest boy. The patriarch knew full well just how painful this day was for his middle son, it wasn't as if today was a walk in the park for himself, it was hell; knew that even though all the boys were more somber than usual, it was Virgil who felt it the most. He had watched over the years as Virgil treated this day like any other, shying away from even the thought of parties and presents, for reasons Jeff could only guess at. Oh, he thought he knew, but Virgil whenever he was asked would always reply with the same answer, "Nothing's wrong, everything's fine Dad." Jeff though knew better, but as much as he wanted to help, to make this day a joyful one, he too was filled with sorrow, sadness and pain. So he had accepted the answer he knew to be false and had allowed the façade his son wore to continue on from year to year, ignoring his Mother's attempts to get him to mend things.

He stole a quick glance at his eldest boy before turning to his middle child and asking yet again. "Is everything okay Son? You seem a bit distracted?" Gaining the usual response in return he pressed on. "So what do you guys have planned for today, something special?"

"Well we was thinking for Virg's big day we would . . . . . . . . . . . ." Scott began, only to stop as Virgil cut in.

"Actually guys I have some notes stuck in my head and I really want to get them down before I forget them, that's if you don't mind?" When he got unhappy looks from his younger siblings, along with reluctant mutterings of "okay", and a confused look from his elder brother at his blatent lie, Virgil felt guilt rise within him and figured it time enough to attempt to be excused, truly smiling for the first time all day, although it still didn't meet his eyes, when his Father acquiesced, practically sprinting from the room in his haste to be alone and away from the stares.

He leaned against the door of his studio once there, and slowly slid to the ground, his knees bending automatically, his elbows resting upon them, his head falling limply into his hands, his mask dropping and his tears once more erupting, stronger feelings of guilt coursing through him. When he was younger and his Mother had still been alive, he had been proud to share this day with her, feeling more closer to her because they did so, feeling that in a house of five boys he was her number one, the favorite for just one day, a feeling that was intensified as he felt for the rest of the year he was forgotten most of the time; not the eldest, nor the youngest, not the quiet genius, nor the playful mischievous athlete, just Virgil, plain old boring Virgil. Sure they shared the same passions, music and art, sure he made her smile when he got a particularly difficult piece right, or drew an amazing picture, but those times were few and far between and sometimes lost as the other siblings accomplished, at least in Virgil's eyes, so much more. Scott succeeded in everything he attempted, and was the apple of their Father's eye; John was the straight A student who was in advanced classes for every subject; Gordon had letter jackets for numerous sports and competed in swimming against boys who were much older; and Alan, well Alan was the miracle baby, the one that shouldn't have lived but battled to do so, the one that could do no wrong and if he ever did, could disarm you with one look of those baby blues, the one that had the makings of a master mechanic and could turn his hand at fixing just about anything.

Swiping once more at his eyes, and feeling emotionally drained, he stood and stepped over to the sofa, once more just wondering if he could just sleep the day away, his head just hitting the soft pillows, his eyes already closing, as the shrill tone of the alarm began to ring. Shooting back up he raced for the living room that he knew without a doubt was already turning into a command center.

Scott was already heading for his portrait and the hidden passageway behind, as Virgil hurried into the drastically changed living room. "What's happened? What have we got?" He asked, all previous feelings pushed aside as his natural instincts to save people rushed forward.

"An old mine has collapse in Northern Russia. Heavy rainfalls have weakened the foundations and washed away the safety precautions put in place. Virgil, it's bad. The politicians and money people decided it was safe to build a community there. It wasn't. Scott's on his way, I want you to take Gordon and Alan, you're going to need all the help that you can. Take pod 5, you'll need the Mole."

"F.A.B Dad." Virgil replied, heading for his own chute, a sudden sense of foreboding churning inside him.

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**A.N. . . . . . . . . . I hope that wasn't too slow for you? Things will get quicker once we head into the rescue, I promise. Thank you so much for taking time out to read, will be back soon with more, but please bear with me as I am in the middle of a huge move, so updates may be sparse for a few weeks. Catch you later, Peanut x**


	2. Chapter 2

**Desolation, Destruction, Danger and Despair.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . . The mood is somber, it's not a good day, and it's about to get worse as a call comes in for help.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . . Not mine just loaning, I promise to return in one piece . . . . . . .well eventually, and maybe dented a little bit.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . Well the big move is now out of the way and I'm slowly settling into my new home here in the States, so things should start to get back to normal and the chapters will start to come quicker. Thank you so much to everyone who has read, reviewed, or added to favorites, knowing that people are out there reading my little fic is such a boost. Peanut x**

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Virgil found himself drifting as he flew his beloved bird, losing himself in the soothing rhythm of her engines, his hands fluidly working her controls as if he were a part of her systems, her gentle movement and tender humming easing the growing tension he was feeling, and beginning to erase the somber mood that had consumed him all morning. He ignored the constant banter and exchange of bad jokes between his two youngest brothers, and lost himself as he always did when flying his lady, aware of everything around him, attuned to every slight change, alert to every communication, but still in a world of his own. As he drew closer and closer to the rescue sight though, and Scott's messages came in thicker and faster as he set up mobile control, Virgil found his harmony cracking and his black and bleak mood returning.

Apprehensively he landed his bird at the coordinates Scott provided, powering her down as Gordon and Alan rushed to prepare for the rescue. He spent a few moments lovingly trailing his hands over her console, taking in her beauty as though for the first time, before Scott's voice echoed over the com.

"Thunderbird One to Thunderbird Two, come in Virgil."

"Reading you loud and clear Scott, I've just powered down, where do you need me?"

"I have Gordon checking out some structures that need shoring up and made safe. I need you to get the mole ready, there were still miners working in the tunnels when they collapsed, local officials have been hearing noises but their equipment is so primitive they are unsure as to where it's coming from. I have John running scans, so by the time you're ready he should have a better idea of where you need to go. Take Alan with you."

"F.A.B Scott."

Twenty minutes later, and with John's information in hand, Virgil and Alan set about tunneling through the course earth towards their destination. They made their way quickly through the layers of soil and clay before they were slowed down by one of the thick sheets of granite that sporadically littered the area and had confused the locals into thinking this would be a good place to build, the moles powerful drill struggling to bite through, the noise steadily increasing inside as it chewed and screeched inch by inch. Virgil rubbed a hand across his sweating brow, pushing the moisture away from his already stinging eyes, as the heat rose sharply.

"How far away from the heat signatures are we Alan?"

"We're getting closer, but this granite is slowing us down a lot. The signatures are still strong though, and there's movement, so things are looking good."

"Thunderbird Five to Thunderbird's One and Two."

"Go ahead John." Both Scott and Virgil replied at the same time.

"I've been checking the area more closely guys and something about it isn't ringing right, you have thirty or so more meters before you break through and start hitting an easier path, this way is longer but luckily you won't hit any coal so the chances of the moles blade igniting a spark and creating an explosion are low. It's what's beneath that's bothering me, there's the original coal tunnel that runs for miles and tapers off in numerous directions, this is what the victims seem to be trapped in. Running parallel to that is a tunnel that runs to the old quarry down by the river; it was blocked off years ago because it didn't produce. Now the crew is trapped near to where the tunnels used to meet, you're going to have to tunnel above and to the side of them, and pull them up and out."

"Why is that bothering you?" Alan asked.

"I was getting to that kiddo." John replied, ignoring his brother's protests at the hated nickname. "The old tunnel, the blocked off one to the side, is flooding, that's another reason why they stopped digging there, whenever the weather got bad, and the river rose, it would start filling with water. With this heavy rain the area is experiencing, the water is rising quickly. To make matters worse, the dam that spans the river is breaching, which means the water in the tunnel is growing. Guys, if that dam breaks, that tunnel is going to flood more rapidly. The old tunnel was blocked off not too far from where the crew is trapped. Virgil you're the engineer, think about it, when that water finds nowhere to go, what will it do?"

"Build up pressure." Virgil answered immediately.

"And where will that pressure go when there's no space left for it in the blocked off tunnel?" John didn't bother waiting for a reply; his Brother's gasp of breath told him all he needed to know. "You need to get there quickly Virg."

"How long do we have." Scott's calm voice asked, the oldest brother speaking for the first time.

"I can't say. Just hurry." John replied before signing off.

They continued on in uncomfortable silence, no more words spoken, the only noise once again the screech and grind of the Moles drill outside as they pushed it harder to try and reach the trapped miners quicker, knowing now just how much more danger they were in.

The older Brother was sweating profusely by the time his youngest sibling told him their destination had been reached, that one more gentle push should breach the wall that separated them from their goal. Relying on his Brother to guide him, Virgil tentatively pushed on, his mind once again becoming one with his machine, as he pushed all other thoughts aside and eased the big auger forward, praying that their luck would hold out, and that John's scans had been right, one spark now would be disastrous. Their luck though held, and both Brothers' couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped them, as the whining screech halted, and the resistance they had been feeling halted, they were through.

Virgil quickly backed out, retreated a few meters, and made light work of boring yet another hole into the ground, so that he could turn his machine enough for them both to exit. Powering down he stood for his seat, and stretched out his weary muscles, before turning towards his youngest sibling.

"Alan, I'm going to be the one to climb down to the miners, I want you to stay up here and help pull them out." Virgil requested, noticing straight away how his brother's shoulders stiffened in response.

"I can do this Virgil, I can climb down there and help, I'm not a kid anymore."

"I know that you can Ally, but if that dam breaks and that tunnel breaches I need to know that you'll be safe up here out of the way."

"So it's okay for you to head off into danger but not me, is that what you're saying?"

"Yes." Virgil responded, adding quickly as he witnessed Alan's infamous temper begin to rise. "Please Alan, please do this for me. I have a bad feeling about this one, and I need to know that if things start to go bad, that you are safe, you're Mom's last gift to us, please do this for me."

"Okay, okay, I'll stay up here, but on one condition, and this is nonnegotiable Virg. If this does start to go bad, you get your backside out of there, no matter what Virgil. Promise me."

"I promise Ally, I promise I'll get out of there." Virgil replied as he started to walk towards the Moles open door, picking the supplies Alan had gathered together as he went, his mind hoping that his brother didn't pick up on the words he had failed to say.

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**A.N. . . . . . . . . . Sorry about the shorter chapter, but I didn't want to make you wait any longer for an update. Please forgive me for any mistakes concerning the Mole, or the layers of the earth in Russia. Will be back soon with more. Peanut x**


	3. Chapter 3

**Desolation, Destruction, Danger and Despair.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . . The mood is somber, it's not a good day, and it's about to get worse as a call comes in for help.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . . Not mine just loaning, I promise to return in one piece . . . . . . . well eventually, and maybe dented a little bit.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . . . Finally! I have my internet back. Thanks for bearing with me whilst I've been moving, and for reading, reviewing and adding this fic to favorites. Enjoy chapter 3, Peanut x**

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Virgil secured his line to the tripod they had driven into the ground to ensure the rope wouldn't fray against the hole's rough edges, and watched as his youngest brother double checked before making his way over to the entrance the Mole had created. Crouching down on bent knees, he shone his flashlight into the cavern beyond, scanning it around for signs of the survivors, whilst at the same time shouting out in barely passable Russian, "This is International Rescue, can you hear me?"

It didn't take long for him to pick out the survivors, the frightened men and boys all huddled together, all looking with wide and frightened eyes up at the hole that seemed to appear out of nowhere, and the man whose head now popped through. Witnessing their fear, and needing to alleviate it as soon as possible, Virgil tried to communicate again, his voice faltering as he struggle once more with the language. "I'm a member of International Rescue; I'm here to get you out. Does anyone speak English?"

He watched as the smallest and youngest looking boy there tentatively stepped forward, his too big shirt sleeve riding down a bony arm as his hand rose in uncertainty. "I speak some, not good."

He smiled down at the younger boy. "Some is good enough for me. I need you to listen very carefully and then repeat to the others what we are about to do, can you do that?"

"Yes Sir."

"Okay, I'm going to climb down to you, and then one by one my colleague will start to hoist you up." Virgil waited as the boy repeated what he had said, before adding. "The injured will go first. Now you mustn't panic, all of you will get out, I promise." He turned to his Brother, as the young boy once more informed the others what was about to happen. "I'm going in Ally; I'll call you once the first man is ready. Remember keep it steady, but go as fast as you dare."

"F.A.B big brother and you remember what you promised. If it starts to get bad, you get your ass out of there."

Unable to answer, Virgil just nodded his head before rappelling the twenty or so feet to the pits bottom. Unhooking himself, he quickly checked his surroundings, as far as the light would allow him to, looking for any signs that the water had already started to seep through; disappointed and dismayed to see signs of it upon the floor, a stream about an inch or two deep making its way down the lowest part. He turned to the young boy who spoke English and hurriedly started to give out instructions. "What is your name?"

"My name it Sergei."

"Pleased to meet you Sergei, my name is V. Listen, this is what I need you to do. I need you to tell the ones who are injured to step forward, I need you to tell the others to help them if they can't help themselves, do you understand?"

"Yes V."

Virgil looked up into the hole as he waited for the first casualty to step forward, and shouted up to his sibling. "Send down the extra rigging, we'll be set to go in a few."

Five of the twenty trapped miners had been rescued; when John's agitated voice rang out over the coms. "Thunderbird 5 to all Thunderbirds." Responses rang out from all concerned before John added. "The dam's crack is worsening; the attempts to shore up the damage have failed. It's only a matter of time guys; Virgil, Alan, you need to hurry."

"We already are John." The youngest Tracey's voice replied.

"Well you need to go faster."

The bleak and black mood he had been struggling with all day worsened at the news, and the gut feeling that something bad was going to happen stirred once more. He hadn't needed John's warning to know that things were getting worse; the water that now swirled around his calves was evidence enough. Shucking out of his own equipment, he motioned for two more miners to step forward, whilst at the same time shouting up to Alan his intentions. "Ally, readjust the weight ratio on the tripod, I'm going to be sending them up to you two at a time, the winch can handle the power."

"V! No! Stay hooked up. If that dam breaks, you'll not stand a chance if you're unsecured."

"Neither will all these men. Don't worry squirt; I'll be hooked up again in no time." He bit down a groan as his eldest brother's voice rang out.

"V? Don't you dare unhook yourself." The oldest Tracey cried out, concern and worry evident in his tone. "I order you to stay attached to that line."

It wasn't Virgil's voice that answered his concerned sibling though, the middle Tracey breaking protocol as he switched off his communications, not needing the distraction, focusing instead in pushing the rescue along quicker.

"He's already disengaged Scott, and he's shut down his coms. I can still hear him from the cavern though; we're just going to have to trust his judgment. I have to go, the next two are nearly at the top, I'll keep you informed of the progress."

"Don't worry about informing me, I'm on my way down to you. Gordon will man mobile control; I'll be with you in a few."

Virgil ignored Alan's warning of their brother's forthcoming arrival, as a crash behind him sounded out, the water rising sharply to his thighs, and the panic the miners had been suppressing increased. Pushing and shoving began to break out amongst them, fights erupting as they all battled to be the next ones out, and Virgil found that it took all of his attention just to keep some small semblance of order; but as the water rose even further, that order began to falter. He had just secured the fifteenth and sixteenth miner's, the winch already starting to pull them up, as Alan's voice shouted out from above and that order crumbled altogether.

"V, turn your coms back on. The dam broke. The dam broke. Reattached yourself to the line. You have to get out of there."

Even though they spoke no English, Virgil could tell the men understood the peril they were now in. The remaining few rushed at the ropes, all trying to grab on and get to safety, all not caring who they trampled over in their haste. He found himself savagely pushed aside, groaning, biting back a scream, and fighting against the darkness, as he fell awkwardly into a protruding rock and felt ribs move and crack inside him. By the time he managed to fight back the pain, it was too late to stop them, four men clung to the ropes that were meant for two, and all Virgil could do was pray the ropes didn't snap.

He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding as, the men's slow journey finally ended and the ropes held. Opening his com, he called out to his brother's. "That's the last of them; get the rope back down quick. It's getting really cold down here and I'm finding it hard to stay standing, the waters reached my chest, and it's rising all the time." He knew he should tell them of his injury, but he knew that if he did one of his siblings would insist on coming down to help him, and there was no way on earth that was going to happen, no way on earth any of them would step foot in here. So he stayed quiet.

"F.A.B. V, it'll be with you in a minute, just stay with us."

He watched as the final man was unhooked, and Alan threw the lifeline back down to him. Grasping at the rope with fingers that were freezing and slowly losing function, he stepped back into his harness and prepared to leave; thoughts breaking through the determination and professionalism that consumed him on every rescue, thoughts of hot showers and warm beds assaulting his mind, and easing slightly the pain that now riddled him, maybe his gut feeling had been wrong, maybe something could go right on this day for once. He tugged on the rope as a way of letting Alan now he was ready, not trusting the pain he was feeling not to come through in his voice, and readied himself for the short journey to come.

He looked around him as he began to move, was his mind playing tricks on him? He'd barely moved an inch more, when he heard it again barely heard over the cracks and creaking as the mine fought to hold back the pressure from the tunnel next door, and fear and guilt crashed over him.

"Lower me back down! Lower me back down!" He shouted out to his sibling, not surprised at the response he received in return, or who it came from.

"Damn it V, we have to get you out of there, it won't hold out much longer." Scott's voice responded. "We don't have time to mess around, and I can tell from your voice you're hurting, now just let us pull you up."

"There's still someone down here S, I have to get to him. Now let me back down." He waited for some sort of response, getting ready to unhook himself once more and drop to the ground if it turned out to be the wrong one. Not wanting to aggravate his injury all the more, he tried once more to break through to his sibling, his need to help the person still trapped allowing him to voice more than he normally would. "Please S, there's enough time, please let me back down. Don't make this day any worse than it already is for me. Please." Thankful when his brother relented.

"Be quick V. Be careful too, you don't want to lose the miner, but we don't want to lose you."

Virgil found himself surrounded by water once more as he was lowered back down, needing now to swim towards where the pitiful cries emanated from as he could no longer touch the floor. He gasped as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he finally found what he was looking for, as Sergei's small frame clung desperately, one handed, to the rocky face of the mine, slightly upstream from himself; his other arm clutched protectively to his chest. Virgil grabbed a hold of the nearest grip he could get and, even though it hurt to do so, treaded water to stay afloat as he shouted out. "Sergei, I can get you out of here, but I need your help. I need you to let go."

"No, Mr. V, I no do. I sweep away."

"Sergei, listen to me. You have to trust me, I will catch you, now we don't have much time, please I need you to let go."

"No, Mr. V."

An ominous rumbling began to grow within the tunnel, the creaks Virgil had been hearing increasing drastically as the pressure finally became too much. He tried to quell the sense of panic he was feeling from coming through in his voice, but he couldn't help from shouting. "Sergei, let go, I'll catch you, let go. Let Go Sergei, Now!" Only realizing that the boy had responded, when his smaller body slammed into his already broken ribs, Virgil automatically reached out blindly, cursing and crying out when he felt fabric brush through his numb fingers and thinking he had failed the young boy; only to latch on fervently as it brushed past again.

"Sergei, hold on as tight as you can. Do not let go, do you understand me, do not let go." He ignored the weight that crushed against his side, and the resulting pain it created, that could be dealt with later when they were out of here, when they were both safe. Reaching for his com, he attempted to call his siblings, desperation and fear emanating through his voice, as behind them the passageway finally gave, and the roar of water increased. "Scott, Alan, get us out of here! Get us out of here now! Pull us up, the waters coming."

The winch started up above him, its speed set to its limits, but Virgil's gut was telling him he had left it too long, he could feel the force of the water as it buffered them both about, could see it rising faster and faster. He looked up to see how much further they had to go; pleased to see they very close. As he was looking though, the doom he had been feeling all day escalated. The rope above them had been used too much and had taken too much punishment, and with the water pushing them off course and into the side of the Mole created hole, it had started to fray.

"Guys, the ropes about to snap." He shouted out to his two siblings whose faces were framed by the entrance. "You're going to have to stop the winch." He stopped them from protesting by adding. "We're moving too much, and there's too much weight on the line. . . . . . . . . . ." He had to stop as a wave crashed over them, freezing cold water entering his mouth, and it was all he could do to stop it from stealing his breath away completely. "Scott." He managed once he could breathe once again. "I'm going to pass you Sergei, drop me another line and I'll hold on until you can get back to me."

Not liking it, but seeing little other options, Scott acquiesced. He dropped the requested line, before attaching his own to the Mole. Leaning into the mine as much as he could, Scott reached down for the small pitifully thin boy. He realized there problem almost immediately, as for them to meet, the boy would have to reach up, and with only one functioning arm that would mean leaving a hold of Virgil. He tried to stretch himself further, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't reach far enough. "Virgil, you're going to have to help me. I can't reach him; I need you to boost him up to me."

Virgil groaned, he didn't think he had the strength to do this, the constant buffering, the broken ribs, the already somber mood, they were all combining to drain his strength rapidly; but he knew they had no other choice. "Sergei, I need you to help me. I need you to let go of me and reach as far as you can to my colleague."

"No, I cannot. I fall."

"No you won't Sergei. I'll keep a hold of you I promise, but you have to do this. Please Sergei, trust me, I won't let you go." He could see the doubt fill the already fear filled eyes, and wished he could take both emotions away. He tried to emote reassurance through his own eyes as he urged the boy to believe him, to take the chance and let go; pleased when it seemed to work and he felt the small boy begin to move. Keeping a tight hold of the boy's belt, and helping as much as he could, he watched as Sergei began to move, inching closer and closer to Scott and rescue, and their fingers brushing together.

He should have known their luck wouldn't last, should have listened to that gut feeling he had, should have taken a chance on the original rope holding, because just as it looked as though Scott would grasp a hold of the boy, a huge surge of water crashed into Virgil and Sergei. Sergei panicked as he started falling, his legs kicking out and catching Virgil on his bad side. Virgil couldn't help it, he tried to keep hold, but Sergei struggled all the more. He knew it was going to happen, could see it , but he couldn't stop it. Sergei screamed as he fell, the current quickly streaking him away.

Virgil followed his progress for a second before turning his eyes his brother's way, Scott's dismayed reaction changing almost instantly as he saw something in his sibling's eyes he didn't like.

"Don't you do it Virgil. Don't you do it!" Scott shouted, but he knew Virgil wouldn't listen, and could only watch as he unclipped the damaged rope, and let go of the support, dropping into the current himself and following after Sergei.

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**A.N. . . . . . . . . . Thanks for taking time out to read, I hope that you enjoyed it? Catch you soon, Peanut x**


	4. Chapter 4

**Desolation, Destruction, Danger and Despair.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . . The mood is somber, it's not a good day, and it's about to get worse as a call comes in for help.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . . Not mine just loaning, I promise to return in one piece . . . . . . . well eventually, and maybe dented a little bit.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . . . So, I have my internet back, but now that I have, I'm wondering why I missed it so much? Thanks for bearing with me whilst I've been moving, and for reading, reviewing and adding this fic to favorites. Enjoy chapter 4, Peanut x**

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Alan pulled back with all the strength he could muster, as Scott threatened to follow their sibling down into the depths of the rushing water, only just ducking the forceful fist that flew his way as they fell in a tangle of limbs to the rock strewn floor. His hands grasped at his brother's sweat soaked shirt, his fingers locking securely around the material, as Scott rose and pushed for the hole once more.

"Let me go Alan, damn you let me go!" Scott raged, all protocol about using full names now gone.

"Not until you calm down and start thinking rationally." The younger sibling responded, sounding more responsible than Scott had ever heard him before. But Scott's mind refused to forget about the fate of Virgil, his closest sibling, his confidant, his constant reminder of his Mom, who was now lost; lost in darkness that as a child had scared him so, hurt and cold, and enclosed by solid rock walls.

"He's alive, Alan!" Scott bit out, his voice laced with a dangerous venom. He turned to the Thunderbird three pilot, his eyes brimming with tears he would refuse to allow to fall; and blazing with an anger he couldn't control, and guilt he knew deep down he shouldn't be feeling. "You believe that too, don't you Alan?" He asked, not liking the look in his sibling's eyes. He stepped closer to his brother, his hands gripping at Alan's lapels, stooping slightly to look the younger man in the eyes, his voice lowering, the anger abating for now, to be replaced by a need to be believed. "He's alive, Alan. I can feel it. He's alive and we need to find him."

"I know he is Scott, I believe you, but we can't just go rushing in there, we need to get out of here. We need to get these people to safety. We need to regroup, gather our thoughts and start thinking like we're rescuing a stranger. If this was anyone else but a member of IR, would you rush in there with no plan? Think about it Scott, not to do so would be dangerous, not just for you, but for V too."

"You're right. You're right. Come on let's get topside as quick as possible, this rescue is far from over."

Never before had the Mole felt so slow and cumbersome to Scott, as it did on the journey back to the surface. Each precious second they lost, as the hulking machine bit and ground its way back, was a stab in the heart for the brother's, and a constant reminder that time was precious and a need to hurry was a must. Scott guided the Mole, sitting in the spot his lost sibling had occupied earlier, his mind drifting from his task at hand every now and then, everything around him fading into a fog as his hands traced over every surface Virgil would have touched, brought back to reality as his Father's voice sounding weary and distraught reached through the mist and broke the spell it had over him.

"How did it happen?" Jeff inquired, his mind already wondering if today, of all days, he would lose another member of his family. It was Alan who responded.

"V thought he had cleared the area, but there was a young boy left behind. V went back, but by the time they started to ascend again it was too late. The water had already risen to dangerous heights, but when the dam broke it became powerful too, slamming into them both and damaging the rope and rig. We sent down another line, tried to reach and pull them up. . . . . . . . . . . . I don't know what happened, maybe they were hit again, or maybe they just lost balance. . . . . . . ."

"It was another surge." Scott cut in, all other thoughts pushed aside as his commander mode returned. "Another wave of water rocked them, causing the boy to lose hold and fall. V let go and went after him."

"Let go! What do you mean he let go?" His Father's voice responded, an anger Scott didn't like tinting the tone.

"He did what he was trained to do. Don't you go blaming him. He did what you drummed into us all. Remember what you always used to say, "you can't save everyone boys, but you have to try" well V's trying. It was a boy Sir, just a small boy; he couldn't have been more than fourteen. You know what V's like, you know how sensitive he is, you know the medic in him would have to try and save him. Hell, if I'd have been on the rope instead, I probably would have done the same thing."

"I understand S, I really do, but there are right ways, and there are wrong ways, and I think V chose the wrong way. He should have been professional, he should have returned and done precisely what you and A are doing. Returned and gathered the right equipment and information. By not doing so he's put not only his own life in danger, but the boy's too."

"Well I'm sorry Sir, but I guess we'll have to agree to disagree on this one. I believe V made the right choice."

"Sco. . . . .S remember who you are talking too." Jeff ground out, his son's name almost escaping his lips in his anger.

"Shut up!" Alan's voice raged beside Scott, and echoed loudly around the operations room back home on the Island. "I'm sorry, you can both punish me later for that, but you both need to stop arguing, it's not productive and its downright stupid, right now we need to be concentrating on rescuing V and that young boy, and to do that we need to work together. Base I need Brains to estimate how long V could last in these temperatures. Mole to Thunderbird 5, J have you been listening in?"

"Go ahead A, I've heard every word that's been said, what do you need from me?"

"Detailed maps of the mine, newer scans of the area, anything like that, that you think might be of use."

"Already on it A; tell S that G's working on something to try and change the flow of the water, so that it doesn't course down the mine any more than it has. He should have some answers for you by the time you get topside. I'll get back to you with the maps and scan's as soon as I can; Thunderbird five out."

Alan turned back to his eldest sibling after John had logged off, his eyes turning downcast as he took in his brother's features. "I'm sorry S for taking over, but I needed too. You and Base were arguing and V's. . . . . . . . ."

He jumped as Scott's hand gripped his shoulder. "A, it's alright, it's okay. You did well, you did real well. We both kinda lost it back there, but you kept it together and reminded us why we're here. Now come on, we're nearly back; we have a rescue to organize."

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**A.N. . . . . . . . . A short filler chapter to keep you going for now, will be back soon with more. Peanut x**


	5. Chapter 5

**Desolation, Destruction, Danger and Despair.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . . The mood is somber, it's not a good day, and it's about to get worse as a call comes in for help.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . . Not mine just loaning, I promise to return in one piece . . . . . . . well eventually, and maybe dented a little bit.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . Sorry about the wait, I've been job hunting this week, so you can imagine my mind has been a jumbled mess. Anyway, we'll eventually get back to see how Virgil's fairing in this chapter, I hope that you enjoy. Peanut x**

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Inside Scott felt like screaming, as he helped and guided the tired and shaken miner's off the Mole, his thoughts constantly straying to his missing Brother, and the second rescue they would soon mount; ever the professional though little of his inside turmoil showed, and only those who really knew him could see it in his eyes, or the tone of his voice as he issued commands. He sighed with relief as local paramedics gently lifted the last of the rescued away, only then allowing his own mask to fall. He turned away from the joyous scenes before him, as families welcomed loved ones back, and ran a soot and dirt covered hand through equally dirt brown hair, a tightening occurring in his throat and tears prickling at his eyes, he wanted to let go, to allow his emotions to surface, but stoically as ever he willed and pushed them back.

"Scott, are you okay?" Alan tentatively asked, speaking his Brother's name now that there was no one there to overhear him.

"Yeah." Scott started to reply, breaking off as his voice faltered. He cleared his throat, and ran a hand this time over his eyes this time checking for any wetness that could have spilled free; he couldn't allow to show weakness in front of his baby Brother. Once he knew he was safe, he turned back around and spoke again, his voice this time much clearer. "Yeah squirt, I'm good. I'm okay." He knew though, by the look in Alan's eyes, that he hadn't fooled him.

"He's alive Scott. You thought that when we were down in the mine, what's changed now that we're back up here?"

"I don't know Alan."

"Are you giving up on him?"

"What? No!"

"Because if you are, let me know now, because I'm not. I'm going to go back in there and find my. . . . . . . . . . .our Brother."

"I'm not giving up Alan. He's alive, I can feel it. It's just that the feeling is fainter and I'm worried what that means."

"What do you mean its fainter? I don't understand." Alan inquired, his features a mask of confusion.

"You guys laugh and joke about it, but I can always sense when one of you is hurt, and for some unknown reason that sense has always been stronger with Virgil. When we were in the mine, I was so sure he was alive, but now we're topside that feeling has dwindled and I'm worried that it means he's fading away from us."

"He's not Scott, he's still alive. These feelings that you get, did you feel Gordon's accident? Or that time I broke my leg at Wharton's? Or when that idiot crashed head on into Virgil's car?"

"Yes, but it was very faint. I didn't know you were hurt, but I could feel something was wrong."

"There you go then."

"There I go then, what?"

"It's the distance. You're thinking Virgil's dyi. . . . . . . fading, but it's the distance. You knew something was wrong with us all when we were injured, but we were so far away you didn't know what. It's the same now with Virgil, when we were closer the feeling was stronger, now we're further away it's faded slightly. He's alive, Scott, I truly believe that and I need you to start believing that again. We need our "Captain Commander" back, we won't succeed without him."

Scott chuckled at Alan's use of the nickname the terrible twosome had bestowed upon him, the doubts he had been feeling easing away, his Brother was right, Virgil was alive and he was going to do everything in his power to make sure his Brother came back to them. "Thanks Alan, you're growing up fast Kiddo, I'm proud of you. Now let's go and see what this plan of Gordon's is.

Quickly locking up the Mole, both Brother's made their way quickly over to mobile control, releasing it from its own locked state before clambering inside and activating the com's.

"Mobile control to all Thunderbirds." Scott spoke.

"Reading you loud and clear." Replies came back from John, Gordon and their Father back at base.

"Is this line secure? Are you all in secure area's?" Jeff's concerned voice broke through the silence.

"Yes Father." Scott replied, Gordon's own affirmation coming soon after.

"What happened? What's the situation?" Jeff's questions came thick and fast.

"The blocked over mine gave way after the dam broke free; Virgil was still inside the tunnel trying to get the last miner out. We tried Father, we really did. He was so close, but the equipment failed, and a wave hit, and the boy fell, and Virg . . . . . . . . . . . . Virgil let go." Scott answered, his emotions once more breaking free. He turned away from the screen to try and control them.

"Are you all okay?" Jeff asked his own concern for all his boy's clearly heard within his tone.

"Yes Father." Gordon and Alan replied this time.

"Gordon, John mentioned that you had an idea of how to stop the water." Jeff asked, his voice now all business.

"Yes Father, I've already started proceeding with the plan, the charges are in place, I just need the go ahead from you. I spoke to Brains, and we think that if we detonate an explosive at the entrance to the second mine it will collapse and prevent any more water from entering."

"Are there any risks?" Jeff asked.

"Maybe, Brains has run some simulations and nearly all of them came back with good results, but there is a slight chance that we could set off a collapse further within the cave, and we would block off one of Virgil's escape routes."

"What if that collapse happens where Virg is? What if we bury him alive?" Alan cried out, the strong resolve he had had so far, crumbling. He leant into his older sibling, as Scott's arm draped around his shoulders.

"The chance of that happening is slight Ally, and Vigil's chances if we don't do this aren't good. This water is cold, and it's still flowing fast and not filling up the cave completely, which means there has to be an outlet for it somewhere. If this works, the water will start to drain out, making life easier for Virgil and for our rescue attempt."

"Okay son, you've stated your case. You have permission to go ahead. Scott, Alan, start preparing, gather everything you may need. Keep me informed of your progress. John, prepare 5 to be placed on automatic, I'm going to send Brains to come up to get you. Bring him home Scott, good luck and God speed boys."

Scott waited until his Father's and next older Brother's faces had faded from the screen before speaking. "Gordon, do it."

"F.A.B Scott, charges active, pressing the detonator now."

Scott's arm tightened around his youngest sibling even more as a plume of dust rose in the distance before a loud echoing boom reached their ears. He squeezed Alan's shoulder one more time before turning and speaking. "Let's go Alan. Let's go bring Virgil home."

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Constant movement confusing him; radiating pain all over his body; or the roaring that surrounded him bouncing off walls and echoing loudly throughout the cavern; Virgil wasn't sure which one had awakened him, but he wished with all his heart he was still engulfed within the quiet, pain free darkness of his own mind, as all three battered his abused senses, igniting a pain that resounded around his throbbing head, stabbing at his eyes and temples, and turning a stomach that was already protesting into a violent tsunami of acidic waves, that streamed up to his throat with every stabbing beat. What the hell had happened? Had he drank so much? Was this the hangover from hell? Or maybe he had eaten something bad? Why was his bed so hard? And why was it moving? And why was he so cold and wet? Had Gordon been up to one of his tricks? If he had, he was so going to kill his brother; just as soon as he could will his eyes to open.

He tried to turn his head to disgorge the vile liquid that still insisted on rising, but his movement was constricted, and the agony that flared up with even the smallest shift of his body, ignited receptors all around his frame, increasing the pain tenfold. He couldn't stop the scream that escaped, and could do little but lie there as that scream in turn set the signals off once more; his body stuck on a viciously circling roundabout. His stomach rebelled, he could no longer hold it back, and it was all he could do to turn his head ever so slightly, so that he didn't choke as his own vomit spewed forth in a violent torrent. Bones ground together with each heave, and that roundabout he felt he was stuck on, just got faster and faster; until thankfully oblivion stole him under once more.

As sense of falling and vicious chills woke him the second time, wracking their way through his body, and reigniting the pain he had been hiding in oblivion from. A tickle irritated his throat, and he tried to swallow down vile tasting saliva in an effort to prevent a cough from arising; but his efforts were in vain, as the irritant grew, and harsh coughing rattled its way from his lungs; the vicious roundabout starting its ride once again. He battled and fought to stay conscious, even though he desperately wanted to escape the torturous pain, a little niggling feeling at the back of his mind insisting that he stay awake, that something was wrong, that his initial assessment that this was one of Gordon's jokes was so very, very wrong. As he pushed his confusion and pain aside he began to see; he was in trouble. He was in big trouble.

A scream, once more tore from his acid aggravated throat, as that sense of falling came to an abrupt halt. His hand grasped desperately at a new pain that quickly overrode all others. He willed his eyes to open once more, not realizing at first that already were as he was faced with blackness so thick, so dense. Only when he physically felt his eyelids opening and closing did he realize the truth, and for a fleeting moment he was consumed by fear. He was blind. He was blind, and stuck, and hurt and God only knew where. He started hyperventilating, each breath he took not taking in enough air, and he began to panic and flail, his hand grabbing at his trapped arm, pulling and dragging at it, not caring that the obstruction that held him ripped and tore through his delicate flesh, or that blood began to run freely and quickly from the wound, only caring that he needed to be free. The scream of agony came eventually though, as the flesh finally broke, and he dropped down only to hit water hard. Water rushed through his open mouth, cutting off the sound, and Virgil found himself battling once more, this time to fight his way out of the flowing chilled water and to stay alive.

Arms flailed once more, fingers desperately trying to find purchase, nails bending, breaking, and in some cases ripping off as he clawed at the ragged walls. Finally he managed to find a grip, and dragged his weary body up, his head breaking the surface, his brain instinctively telling his lungs to drag in precious oxygen, even though each breath felt like someone was stabbing at his side. With the last of his strength waning, he managed to pull himself to the side, and just hold on, tears of pain and frustration and fear burning at his eyes. Not willing to risk letting go, he rubbed at them with his sleeve, ignoring the pain as his attention was caught by something else; he could see his arm moving, he wasn't blind, it was just really, really dark. That knowledge should have calmed him, but instead all he could think about was being trapped and in the dark. Panic seized him, threatening to take him under once again, until a voice seemed to speak to him, it's soft tone caressing him; it seemed to calm him, but that calm didn't last, as other concerns began to arise within him. Where was he? What had happened? Why was he here?

It wasn't long before other things began to creep into his mind. The water he could tell was falling; from the smells and texture of the walls he knew he was in a mine, but why? He used breathing techniques, that he wasn't sure how he'd learnt, to try and clear his mind; the pounding in his head, the pain throughout his body, and his rebelling stomach abating somewhat as he did so, and thoughts became more lucid. He began to remember. Waking up that morning; the somberness of his mood; what day it was; the rescue call; the trapped miners; the dam breaking. So he had been on a rescue, he'd been with his Brother's, could remember Scott begging him not to let go; he guessed he must have, as was frequently usual, ignored his sibling. He guessed he must have let go, but why? He tried to think of more, knew that there was something else he had to remember, but it just tickled and teased him, dancing on the edges of his mind only to retreat when he tried to focus on it, so in the end he gave up, something else had again caught his attention. The water was dropping. He could feel it fading away; could feel his angle drop and moved his legs to try and find purchase, relief flowing through him when they finally touched the cave floor. He allowed himself to rest, his whole body trembling with relief, and he could do little to stop it from shutting down from pain and exhaustion, or to stop it from slumping down into the rapidly dwindling water.

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**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . . . . That's all for now folks! Will be back soon with more, catch you later. Peanut x**


	6. Chapter 6

**Desolation, Destruction, Danger and Despair.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . . The mood is somber, it's not a good day, and it's about to get worse as a call comes in for help.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . . Not mine just loaning, I promise to return in one piece . . . . . . . well eventually, and maybe dented a little bit.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . Thank you so much to everyone who has taken time out to read this story so far, and to those who have reviewed or added to favorites, I very much appreciate it. Here's chapter 6, will catch you at the end. Peanut x**

**Oh, I forgot, I have been back into chapter 5 and changed a little bit towards the end, to make this chapter fit better. Sorry. Peanut x**

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"We're here." Alan called over his shoulder, as his hands and fingers began to shut down the Mole once again. He was glad he had been requested by their Father to drive the big machine back down, glad to have been away from his oldest Brother's constant pacing and fidgeting. Never before had he ever felt so sorry for Gordon, as his immediate older Brother was growled at, shouted at, and complained at from the minute they closed the door; that didn't mean to say he hadn't gotten away from Scott's moods though, the Thunderbird One pilot persistently asking every few seconds "are we there yet?" like some over excited toddler on a first time vacation; only Scott's tone didn't register excitement, only concern and worry. Powering down the last few motors, he waited for the noise to abate slightly before triggering the com.

"Mole to Thunderbird 5 and base, come in."

"Go ahead Alan." Jeff and John replied almost at once.

"Just testing to see how the strengthened coms are working. We've arrived back at the entrance Virgil and I created. We should be leaving to enter into the mine within the next few minutes. It looks like Gordon's plan worked, the Moles video surveillance can pick up only a small stream still settled on the bottom of the mine. John, did you have any luck boosting Virgil's coms?"

"Brains and I have been trying, but we think he must have damaged it when he was swept away. We make these things tough, but they're not resistant to everything. Brains is on final approach so I need to guide him in, I'll keep trying on the journey back to Earth, and we'll both brain storm once we reach the island."

"Come home safe Son." Jeff spoke before John signed off, his voice filled with a tone all the Sons were not used to hearing, fear and doubt.

"He'll come back safe Dad." Alan tried to reassure his Father. "They both will, and so will Virgil. We'll find him, you'll see."

Jeff wished he had his youngest boy's positivity. He should be the one reassuring them, not the other way around. Every time they went out he had his concerns that one of them wouldn't return, sending prayers to God and Lucy every time they came back okay; but this time felt different, only Gordon's accident had ever brought up this sense of dread within him. He managed to break free from his stupor long enough to issue a few more orders to Alan before he too signed off, but once alone that dread and fear took back a hold of him.

What if they never found him? What if they did but it was too late? What if by attempting this rescue more of his sons would become trapped, or lost, or hurt, or even . . . . . . . . . . . .? He tried once again to push those negative feelings aside, didn't know why they were so strong to begin with, well he did, but did he want to acknowledge that? He looked to the paintings upon the walls around the control room, his gaze fixing upon one in particular, one painted by the son who was now missing; a painting that was given as a gift, only for Jeff to only casually glance at it before moving his attention elsewhere, not seeing the look of devastation and hurt written clearly upon Virgil's face. It had been stored away for years, before his Mother had found it once more and insisted it take pride of place next to the ones of his sons. Focusing upon it now he spoke.

"Oh Lucille, I have been so stupid all these years. I've watched him suffer, all of them suffer, but Virgil most of all, and done nothing to ease his pain. I knew how hard this day was for him, have known for a very long time, but my own grief was still so strong I pushed our son away, left him to find comfort elsewhere from my Mother, but more often from Scott. As he's grown older though I've noticed he's pushing their love, their comfort away, trying to cope with his own grief on his own; I guess that's my fault too, it's what I do on this day every year."

"This should be a day of celebration, for both you and Virgil, but instead no matter how hard the boys try, it seems more like a wake. He thinks we don't know; thinks that I don't know that he doesn't play today, that he doesn't paint today. He thinks he fools us when he says he's got ideas he needs to jot down, and then retreats away to his studio; but we know; I know. But I refuse to help, so caught up in my own feelings. Scott and Mother try to talk to me, try to get me to go see him, but I'll always find an excuse, some paperwork or phone call that's urgent and important."

"How can I make this right Lucille? How can I fix a damage that's been festering for years? How will I ever be able to tell him the things he needs to hear? How do I turn this day back into the joyous celebration it used to be, when he would join you at the piano, and we would all sit around and listen? What if he's lost for good? What if I lose him just like I lost you? Help Lucille, show me the way. Keep our son safe, keep all our sons safe." He rubbed a hand across his damp cheeks, as a knock came at the door, before it opened and his Mother came in bearing a tray of coffee. She took one look at her son's distraught features and was by his side in seconds.

"What do I do Mother? What do I do if I've lost him?"

"You haven't son. You haven't and you won't, he's alive I can feel it. I believe it, and so should you. Your sons need their Father, need their commander; all your sons." With that she kissed him on the top of his head before retreating, her work done for now. Jeff would come around, she knew it, just like she knew her middle grandchild was still alive; out there hurt and cold and alone, but still alive.

* * *

Back at the opening to the mine, Scott and Gordon had already descended and were waiting patiently at the bottom for Alan to rappel down, both men already using their flashlights to scout around the immediate area. Gordon turned to his older Brother, as Alan shouted he was ready to come down, his breath pluming in the lights beam as he spoke. "Jeez Scott, it's freezing down here, and we're in dry clothes. What's it gonna be like for Virgil?"

"I'm more concerned about the boy, Gordon. Virg has his suit on, that should keep most of the chill at bay, so long as it isn't damaged; but the boy only had a worn down thin t-shirt on. We need to get to him fast, he won't last long cold and wet in this temperature."

"Do you think they're together?" Gordon tentatively asked.

"I don't know, I hope so, but I really don't know. You know what Virgil's like in dark spaces, ever since the accident when Mom died, even though it was you and Alan that were trapped, he's had an aversion to them; just like when he's in the Mole and he has piloting to concentrate on, if the boy is with him, it would give him something to take his mind off of it, but if he isn't, you know Virg."

"Yeah, he'll freak. Remember when I played that joke on him, told him I'd hidden that piece of music he'd been working months on at the back of the closet and then locked him in it? Hell man that freaked me out, he just lost it. Nobody knew until then, not even you, just how bad he was, typical Virg tried to deal with it on his own." He paused as Alan landed beside him and helped his youngest Brother unhook himself from the line, before adding. "You know if they aren't together, he'd want us to concentrate on finding the boy first. If we don't he'll probably refuse to leave no matter how hurt he is, and insist on helping to find him."

"Yeah, I know." Scott replied before admitting. "But I don't know if I can do that. How many times do we do that? Risk ourselves; put others' lives before our own? For once can't we bend the rules a little bit?"

"Scott you know we can't, we took an oath to protect others." Alan stated, having heard the tail end of the conversation.

"I know, I know, but. . . . . . . . . . . ." Scott trailed off not wanting to add the rest, but Gordon spoke the words anyway.

"But it's Virgil?"

Scott looked up with eyes filled with shame and met his siblings gaze, his shame turning to confusion as he met a twin pair of grins.

"What, you think that is news to us? That it offends us? We know you would die for us big Brother, we know how much we mean to you, but we also know how much Virgil does." Gordon stated.

"It shouldn't be that way, I should think of you all the same."

"Maybe, maybe not, I'm sure you not the only brother, or sister, out there that feels that way, hell I do about Alan, so I don't think you should punish yourself over how you feel." Gordon stopped as Scott's head dropped. "Listen Scott, please. We're not offended, because at the end of the day no matter what we know you love us, and we also know you would never ever do anything to hurt us, that you would always come and find us, and that you'd never let us go." He was glad to see Scott's gaze turn back to him, but was dismayed to still see a trace of shame there, wanting to alleviate it the joker within him surfaced. "Because if you did, we would sic Grandma upon you; you know she loves us two the best." Scott chuckled then, and Gordon was pleased his joke had worked, but he knew they had to get back to the task at hand. "C'mon, what do you say we go and find ourselves a Brother?" Shouldering their packs, they set off.

They stumbled and lurched their way down the mine, their lights leading the way but unable to pick out every hazard that lurked within the inky depths, all three men finding themselves hoping that Virgil had at least his own light to guide his was; because without it, even to them who weren't normally bothered by it, the darkness was truly suffocating. They had travelled less than a hundred meters and Gordon had already tripped and ripped his suit, and Scott had a nasty gash in his hand due to thrusting said hand out to stop a fall; but they'd soldiered on and now faced their biggest test so far.

"What do we do?" Alan asked, as he panned his flashlight around once more. "Which way do we go Scott?" He added as he took in the split in the tunnel before them.

Scott though was at a loss. He'd had a feeling that something like this would happen. John had tried to find more detailed maps, but he'd had no luck, most of the system was still uncharted, some of it as yet not even seen by men; so Scott had figured at some point they would come to a fork, now he just had to figure out what to do. Oh he knew what he wanted to do, but would the others go for his plan. Taking a deep breath he attempted to find out.

"I think we should split up. Gordon, you and Alan take the left route, I'll take the right."

"What? No!" Gordon cried out, Alan's own protest following soon after. "We've already searching for one Brother Scott, we need to stick together to make sure we don't end up searching for two."

"Gordon, I'd love for us to stick together, but we don't have the time and you know it. This way we get to cover more ground more quickly. John's reconfigured our coms so we can still talk to each other down here, and he's boosted the life signs detector on them too so if worst comes to worst you'll be able to find me."

"And what happens if your coms break like Virgil's? What do we do then?"

"I'll mark the way I go, you'll do the same your way, we'll arrange to communicate ever fifteen minutes and meet back here in two hours. I'll be okay guys, I promise."

Still not liking the idea, but realizing they had little choice, the two youngest Tracey's parted ways from their eldest sibling; their flashlight beam's soon lost to Scott in the darkness.

* * *

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . That's all for now folks! I hope that you enjoyed. Sorry Bee that Virgil wasn't in this chapter like I said, he'll be back next time. Will be back soon with more, catch you later. Peanut x**


	7. Chapter 7

**Desolation, Destruction, Danger and Despair.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . . The mood is somber, it's not a good day, and it's about to get worse as a call comes in for help.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . . Not mine just loaning, I promise to return in one piece . . . . . . . well eventually, and maybe dented a little bit.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . Thank you so much to everyone who has taken time out to read this story so far, and to those who have reviewed or added to favorites, I very much appreciate it. Here's chapter 7, will catch you at the end. Peanut x**

**This is dedicated to Purupuss, who kindly allowed me to make reference to her wonderful fic Everything Happens For A Reason. If you haven't read it, I suggest you do so, it's an amazing story.**

* * *

There was no way to stop it, no way to see the dangers hidden in the inky blackness, no way to see what lay ahead, and no way to try and avoid it. He'd gingerly tried to make his way out of the darkness all the while wondering when their closets had become so big and so cold, treading lightly, feeling his way with his feet, but he'd become tired and complacent, not checking nearly as much as he should have, and could do little to stop once again the ungainly falling to the ground that turned his ankle, and sent a jagged edge of rock ripping through his suit, gouging a rent deep into his calf. He threw out his good arm, but it wasn't enough to stop his already throbbing head smashing against the cold rock, reopening the tear that had been created on an earlier fall; or to stop his damaged ribs from colliding with a fallen boulder, an excruciating agony flaring across his side and stealing what little air he had left from his lungs. He attempted to get up, only to slip and fall back down again each time he tried, until tired and weary and dizzy and confused, he gave up allowing the darkness that seemed to be constantly on the edge of his awareness to start dragging him back under once more.

"I'm sorry." The words were whispered, barely audible, not that it mattered; there was after all no one there to hear them, but the man who had spoken them didn't know that, didn't even realize he had spoken them aloud. He'd reawakened confused, in pain, exhausted, so very, very cold, gasping for each breath, and trying desperately to control the panic that raged through him, he crouched against the coarse and jagged rock wall, trying to battle through the pain and wrapping his aching arms around his battered torso, attempting to pull any heat from them he could. "I'm sorry." He repeated. "Please let me out now." He couldn't remember what he was apologizing for; couldn't remember what he had done, that must have infuriated one of his brothers so much, that they felt the need to punish him so; couldn't understand why they had left him alone in the cold and dark that terrified him so during the day, and ravaged through his dreams at night. Why couldn't he remember? What was wrong with him?

He used the palms of his hands to pummel his throbbing head, trying to beat some sort of sense into it, but all his beating did was intensify the pain he was feeling and set back off the nauseating swell within his stomach. He couldn't stop the tears that fell, couldn't stop the trembles that rippled fiercely through him once more; he just wanted to be let out of the dark. The air around him seemed to grow thicker, cloying and clogging as he tried to drag it in. He was running out of it. It was disappearing. He gasped, and gulped, and sucked as hard as he could to get more into his lungs; but it just seemed to get thicker, and thicker, and thicker, until little to none seemed to trickle down his airway, and the agonizing pain in his side just seemed to intensify into a white hot fury.

He began to fret, choking and heaving and struggling; he didn't want to die here, he didn't want to die this way, he didn't want to die just like his Mom. Why couldn't they hear him suffering? Why did they just ignore his struggles? Why wouldn't they just let him out? Did they love him that little? Did they want him gone so much? Did they still blame him for his Mother's death? In his hurt state, his delusional mind brought back to the surface all the pain, all the anguish, all the guilt he had felt from that time, and there was no way to replace or rebuild the walls he had created to contain it, no way to stop it from seeping in and poisoning his body and mind once more. He began clawing at the walls, trying to find the door that would lead him out, begging and pleading, words spilling from his mouth.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make us late, I didn't mean for Mom and Grandpa to be killed, I just wanted to paint a picture, I didn't know what was going to happen, I didn't know there would be an avalanche, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please just let me out. Please Father." He rushed out the words, stuttering over the sentences, as his guilt lay heavy within him once more; allowing himself to once more drown in its depths he began to shut down and give up, only to stop as a soft voice spoke to him.

"_Hush now Virgil, hush now my son. They're looking for you. You mustn't give up."_

"Mom?" Virgil cried out, his disordered mind and hurting body wanting to latch onto any comfort he could find, all rational thought fleeing him. "Mom, please help me." He begged. "Please get me out of here." He began crying as the sweet voice that could cure any hurt failed to return. "Oh God, Oh God, please don't leave me here too, please don't leave me here alone. I'm so sorry Mom, I'm so sorry. I wish it me, I wish it was me. It should have been me, things would have been so much better if it had have been me; Scott and John and Gordon and Alan would have still had you, and Dad, Dad would have been so much happier, he would have had you and not some second rate copy that brought him pain every time he looked at it. I'm so sorry it wasn't me Mom, it should have been me." His voice trailed off as his emotions got the better of him, the steadfastness that usually surrounded him in times of trouble, and that his Brother's envied so, deserting him. He wilted and crumpled, his hands beating once more at the rock walls before falling limply to his sides, his eyes drooping closed as exhaustion overtook him, his head dropping to his chest before sliding like the rest of his body to the floor. He missed the smell of Lilies that seemed to float upon the air, missed the pleas of the sweet lilting voice that begged him once more to be strong and hold on, missed the sounds of rocks being jostled and moved in the distance as feet trod carefully over them.

* * *

Gordon and Alan stopped as Scott's voice radioed them for an update. It was coming up on their deadline to turn back and regroup, and since they had parted ways the Brother's had found nothing to lift their spirits, no Sergei, and more importantly no Virgil, just more and more and more rocks and walls.

"Any sign guys?" Scott asked yet again, the tone of his voice telling the younger two Brothers he didn't hold out much hope for a positive reply.

"No, nothing." Gordon replied, his own spirits falling. "Scott, it's time for us to. . . . . . . . . ." His voice trailed off as Alan spoke over him.

"Gordon, someone's down there. I can hear something, someone's down there."

"Alan! Alan! Sshhh, be quiet." Gordon shouted back, waiting for his Brother to acknowledge his request, and for his own voice to stop echoing around the cavern, before straining his hearing to try and catch the sound that Alan had heard, his voice showing his excitement as he shouted over the com to his eldest Brother. "Scott! Scott! Alan's right, there's someone down here; I can hear crying, they're close. Scott you need to come back here."

"Gordon! Gordon! Calm down. Make your way to the sound; let me know what you find. I'll start making my way back to you now." He turned on his heels, half of him wanting to race back down the tunnel, but his eyes, and his head, refused to move. Something was stopping him from leaving, an invisible force that seemed to curl around him, preventing him from going back, and urging him to continue on; that feeling he always got when his Brothers were hurt, returning with a vengeance. He couldn't leave, he had to go on, something was also down his tunnel, he could feel it, and he knew even before Gordon's voice came back over the coms that what he was feeling was Virgil.

"Scott, we found the boy. We found Sergei, he's cold and hurt bad, but he's alive. But Scott, this tunnel ends here. Virgil's not here with him Scott."

"I know."

"What? What do you mean, you know?" Gordon responded.

"Listen, I can't explain it right now, just trust me. Take the boy back to The Mole and get him back to the surface, I'm going to carry on a bit longer. I believe Virgil is down here, and I'm going to find him."

"Scott, we said we would regroup in two hours, that time is now gone. You need to come back and rest for a while. We'll get Sergei to safety, and then we'll come straight back down and start again, I promise you."

"No, I can't come back, not now, not when I'm so close to finding him."

"Scott, you don't know that you're close, you're not thinking straight."

"I'm close Gordon, I can feel it. Something is telling me to keep going forward, to keep on looking. Something inside me is telling me Virgil is close and that if I come back now it'll be too late when we return. Something is telling me we don't have much time, that Virgil's hurt bad. I have to go on Gordon. I just have to."

"Okay, okay, but please Scott, be careful. We'll get back to you as soon as we can, and I'll inform Dad and John of the situation. Find him Scott, find our Brother and bring him back to us."

"F.A.B. Gordon, I will."

* * *

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . That's all for now folks! Will be back soon with more, catch you later, Peanut x**


	8. Chapter 8

**Desolation, Destruction, Danger and Despair.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . . The mood is somber, it's not a good day, and it's about to get worse as a call comes in for help.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . . Not mine just loaning, I promise to return in one piece . . . . . . . well eventually, and maybe dented a little bit.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . I'm so sorry this chapter has taken so long to get to you, the writing funk his hit me hard within the month of May, and everything I have been coming up with, on second read has been crap. I'm praying that I seem to have climbed my way out of it, but I guess you never know. Thank you all for bearing with me, and also thank you so much to everyone who has taken time out to read this story so far, and to those who have reviewed or added to favorites, I very much appreciate it. Here's chapter 8, will catch you at the end. Peanut x**

* * *

"Do you think it was Virgil?" Alan cautiously asked, as the slowly made their way back to the Mole.

"I don't know. I hope so." His Brother replied, trying but failing to keep his own concerns out of his voice. "Scott said he heard something, but you know what it's like down these tunnels, and you know what your mind can do to you when you desperately want something to be true."

"So you don't think it is? You don't think it's Virgil? You think he's imagining things?" Alan shot back, stopping in his tracks, his shoulders slumping, his end of the stretcher drooping towards the floor, Sergei's small frame starting to slide along with it.

"Alan! Snap out of it! Stop thinking about things we cannot control and concentrate of those we can, like getting Sergei to safety; pick up your end Ally." He waited for his Brother to comply, adding when he didn't. "This is Scott we're talking about Alan, you know as well as I do that if anyone can find Virgil he can." He watched as Alan's different emotions flittered through his eyes; watched as a battle took place within him; watched as he struggled to say words he was unsure he wanted answers to, but needed to say. The battle was eventually won and Gordon listened as his youngest Brother spoke the words that had been constantly rolling around his own mind.

"But will he find him in time?"

"I don't know Alan." Gordon eventually replied. "But I do know this, Virgil is one stubborn son of a gun, he'll fight with all he has to get back to us, you'll see. In the mean time we need to get Sergei back, you know this is what Virgil would want us to do, not standing here risking his life whilst we talk about things that are out of our control." He looked into his Brother's fearful eyes, and hoped his own expressed his confidence as he added. "Scott will find him Alan."

Alan believed what he heard and what he saw, but it didn't take away all his concerns, he still couldn't help but feel they were running out of time, but he knew Gordon was right, Virgil would be pissed if he knew Alan was holding up Sergei getting treatment. Pushing all thoughts aside, he straightened his shoulders and lifted the stretcher once more, they were nearly back to the Mole and if they wanted to help Virgil they needed to get back as soon as possible.

* * *

Scott cursed as he turned yet another bend and still found no signs of his lost sibling. He knew he had heard something, had no doubt in his mind that something was his Brother, but where was he? Had he somehow missed him in the darkness? No, he knew he hadn't, knew that sound travelled further within the confines of the cave walls, knew that Virgil was still up ahead. He stopped for a second, controlling his breathing as he strained to hear just another sign, but there was nothing to be heard. Picking up his pace he continued on, signaling up to John as he did so.

"John, how are those scans coming along? Have you managed to increase them at all?" He asked after the formalities had passed, praying for some sort of good news.

"I'm sorry Scott, we've tried but we can't get them any stronger. I take it you haven't found Virgil yet?"

"No, and I can no longer hear anything either. I'm beginning to worry that we're going to be too late."

"Is that what your brain is telling you? Or your gut?"

"My brain."

"And what does your gut tell you?"

"That Virgil's still alive."

"Then he is."

"But John, what if I'm. . . . . . . . . . . . ."

"What Scott? What if you're what? Scott are you still with me? Scott! Scott! Talk to me."

"I've found him John! I've found Virgil."

"Is he alive? How injured is he? Is he awake? Is he moving?"

"John, calm down, I don't know yet I'm making my way over to him now. I'm going to sign off whilst I check him over."

"Scott. . . . . . . . ."

"John I know you're about to protest, but it's better this way. Contact the others let them know the news, I'll be in touch soon I promise, make sure the others are online when I do so that I don't have to go through it numerous times, and get Gordon and Alan to hurry." Scott signed off before John could protest more and made his way slowly towards his unmoving sibling, ignoring to beeps of his communicator as someone, probably his Father, tried to get through. He eased down beside Virgil, taking off the backpack of supplies he carried as he did so, and pulling out a stronger flashlight so he could examine him all the more easier; not liking what he saw when he finally switched it on.

Virgil lay on his side, his body eerily still, his usually tanned face deathly pale. Scott stopped the ominous thoughts from racing through his mind; thoughts that sent tremors coursing through him, turning his stomach, and bringing an ache to his heart; thoughts that all had one common element running through them, that he was too late. He forced his mind to look at this as though it was any other mission, forced himself to look at Virgil as though he was a stranger and not the Brother he so dearly loved. Pulling open the zipper on his pack he pulled out the medical monitor, and hurriedly switched the machine on, the screen flashing brilliantly before dulling and once more turning black. "No, no, no, no , no, no!" Scott yelled into the chasm, his voice echoing back to him as he swore in many languages as he could think off, a feat that would have made John proud under different circumstances. He threw the device back into his pack and ran a frustrated hand through his hair; he was going to have to do this the old way. He choked back a giggle as the irony of the moment hit him; Virgil was the medic, he needed his Brother here with him for this, not being the patient he was about to assess. What if he judged wrong? What if he made the wrong decision? What if he moved his Brother and injured him more? For the first time ever he had a sense of the fear and panic and doubt, that he felt Virgil must go through every time they found someone hurt, every time one of the Brother's was hurt, and his pride in his sibling soared because not once did his Brother ever show his feelings, his features a stoic mask as he calmly went about his duties. A thought crossed his mind that maybe that was why, after ever bad rescue Virgil's first need after debriefing was to paint or play piano.

He knew now what he needed to do, knew he had to bring that professionalism that Virgil always showed out of himself. He dragged in a deep breath before he hastily pulled off his glove and began to reach over to check for a pulse he prayed was still there, ignoring the shaking he witnessed in his hands. Warm fingers touched icy cold skin, maneuvering around slightly when they failed to feel a throbbing pulse beneath them, Scott's own heart thudding against his chest when he still could not find the beat he so desperately needed to feel.

"No! No! Don't you dare do this to me Virgil! Don't you dare do this to us! You promised! Alan told me you promised you'd come back out of this tunnel. You've never broken a promise in your life Virgil, don't you dare start now."

Scott forced himself to calm down, forced himself to be patient, his hand once again going to Virgil's neck, once again finding nothing at first, but he forced himself to keep trying. There! There! It was faint, and it was slow, but it was there "Thank God! Thank you Mom!" Trembling digits activated his com, and he waited for all his family to answer before stating. "He's alive, he's unconscious, but he's alive."

"How bad is he hurt?"

"Why didn't he answer us?"

"How long will it be until you get back to the Mole site?"

"I won't be able to move him. . . . . . . . ." Scott ignored all the questions and started to reply only to be cut off by his Father.

"What do you mean? You need to get him out of there." Jeff stated, his voice trembling with worry.

"Dad, I can't, the medical monitor failed. I need Alan or Gordon to bring me down another one. I don't want to risk moving him without a better assessment than my eyes can give."

"I'm sorry Son; I didn't mean to yell, what can you tell us that you can see?"

Scott's hands roamed over his siblings head and body as he spoke. "His pack is gone, and I can't find a flashlight, he's had no light down here. There's still a small trickle of water along the bottom of the cave, which you know he would have followed, yet he's facing the opposite way so I'm guessing he's gotten confused and turned around, or he's not in his right mind to begin with. As I said he's unconscious, I can see one open head wound, that's still bleeding sluggishly, and can feel two more goose eggs but they're closed. My guess there is that he has a concussion, probably a severe one. His uniform is shred to pieces, probably from all the roughhewn edges to the cavern walls, he has an open wound to his left arm, part of the flesh on the underside seems to have be ripped or torn off, it's got dirt petty deep within the cut and is already showing signs of infection, I'll irrigate it and try and patch it up as best I can. I can feel movement in his ribs, but I don't feel any other signs of trouble in his torso, without the monitor though I don't want to risk moving him incase I'm wrong. He has another open wound in his right leg, and that ankle looks swollen, maybe a sprain, could be a break. He's freezing cold." Scott started on the arm wound as a voice spoke from home.

"It's probably a combination of blood loss, shock, and hypothermia." Brain's voice stuttered back at Scott. "Get a broad spectrum of antibiotics into him, and wrap him within a thermal blanket, you have to get him warm Scott, and keep him warm. Now I know you don't want to move him, but body to body heat is still the best form of conserving warmth, you may have to take the chance; not moving him could harm him more."

"Okay, I'll risk it, but I still want Gordon or Alan to come back down here to help me get him out, there are too many obstacles and tight turns to risk a hover stretcher."

"We're making our way back to you now Scott. Sergei is with rescue personal, and it looks as though he's going to be fine, he's banged up pretty bad and cold, but he's awake and talking."

"That's great news guys; I've given Virgil the meds and dressed the arm and leg wounds, now I'm going to move him so that he's resting against me. He's so cold I can feel it through my suit. Hurry guys, we have to. . . . . . . . . . ." Scott's voice trailed off as something caught his eye, causing panic within his family.

"Scott! Son! What is it? What's the matter?" Jeff asked.

"Noth. . . . . . . . Nothing." Scott replied, not able to hide the sobs from his voice.

"Scott, you're worrying me, please don't lie to us we'll find out soon enough anyway. Please Scott."

"His fing. . . . . . . . . . .his fingers are all tore up, some of the nails are missing. He must have panicked down here like we thought he might. I can see blood on the walls where it looks like he tried to claw his way out."

* * *

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . That's all for now folks! Will be back soon with more. Peanut x**


	9. Chapter 9

**Desolation, Destruction, Danger and Despair.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . . The mood is somber, it's not a good day, and it's about to get worse as a call comes in for help.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . . Not mine just loaning, I promise to return in one piece . . . . . . . well eventually, and maybe dented a little bit.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . What can I say, sorry just doesn't seem to be enough, life just kind of took over and writing got pushed to the side; I'm hoping I have things back in order again, and the chapters will return thick and fast. With that being said, I really hope that you enjoy chapter 9. Peanut x**

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Scott's anger was growing as each second passed by and still there were no signs of his two youngest brother's imminent arrival. He pulled Virgil's cold and still body even closer to his own, and wrapped the emergency blanket even tighter around them as a chill wracked his own frame; if he was feeling this cold, how must his unconscious sibling be feeling. His heart thudded in his chest as the movement brought a weak groan from Virgil's mouth, tears brimmed his eyes as he moved his brother ever so slightly in order to see Virgil's face, hope burning deep within him that maybe this time his sibling would grace him with his presence. That hope though didn't last as no matter what Scott did, begging him with a voice that shook and broke, tapping his features, an act Scott knew irritated his brother no end, brokered no response; Virgil continued to stay under, only now his rest was far from restful.

Virgil fidgeted as though fighting some invisible foe; his face contorting putting meaning to the mumbled words Scott could barely hear, nor make head or tail of. He moved his ear closer to Virgil's mouth, hoping to catch anything that would help him understand just what Virgil was battling, yet wishing he had stayed in the dark when words gradually became clear; words he had heard many times over the years, words that came out in Virgil's nightmares when he was powerless to stop his hidden feelings from escaping and being released for all to hear; words Virgil would always insist afterwards he could not remember; words both Scott and their Father had tried to instill into the troubled boy, and later man, were not true. Both had always hoped they had succeeded, Scott now knew they hadn't. The tears that had been brimming fell in earnest now as he sat there in the freezing cold, holding his hurt and broken sibling, trying to offer comfort, to ease the pain, yet not succeeding. In the end he could do little but hold on tighter and listen as Virgil's laments grew in strength.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it. It's my entire fault. Please don't hate me. Please let me out of here. I didn't mean to kill her."

Scott's heart broke as each sentence fell over and over from Virgil's lips and he realized for the first time just how deeply hidden his sibling had kept his feelings; but the hurt he felt at those words was nothing compared to what ran through him as new sentence's filtered out; sentence's that sent sheer terror through the oldest Tracy son.

"Mother, please don't leave me here. I don't belong here. I bring them nothing but pain, a constant reminder of you. Please let me come with you. I want to come with you."

Scott was startled as Virgil's hand stretched out as though reaching for someone. He tried to pull the limb back; worried that Virgil would damage himself even more if he moved too much, a sense of amazement washing over him at the strength of his sibling as Virgil injured and hurting as he no doubt was, fought him tooth and nail, crying out and trying desperately to grasp what Scott now knew to be their imaginary Mother as he battled. "Don't leave me, please take me with you. I don't want to live here anymore. I don't deserve too. Please don't hate me also." Scott almost cried with relief as Virgil's monologues seemed to still, his mind praying that his brother would now settle back down again, but he should have known better. He couldn't help his grip loosening as a new sound fell from Virgil's lips; a sound that Scott knew would haunt his own dreams for the rest of his days; a pitiful wail of grief.

Not able to take it anymore, Scott lost control. He grasped Virgil's arm and roughly pulled the limb back, all the while shouting at his sibling, praying that his words would break through his brother's befuddled mind, a small smile of happiness gracing his features as he seemed to finally achieve his goal, Virgil's cries stilling and his face turning towards his older sibling.

"Virgil? Virgil, come on now, look at me. Yes that's it concentrate on me. Hey little brother, it's so good to see those eyes again. No, no, no, no, no, c'mon Virg stay with me a bit longer."

"Scott?" Virgil finally turned dull and unfocussed eyes his siblings way and whispered out, that one word leaving him breathless, but it was the next words that left the Thunderbird 1 pilot stunned. "Do you see her? I want to go with her, but she won't let me. Do you think she hates me too?"

Scott opened his mouth to reply, but the words would not emerge as his throat clenched around a sob that wanted to break free. He coughed to try and clear the blockage, and opened his lips to try again to say the words Virgil needed to hear, only to stop once more as Virgil grasped his arm harshly, his other arm curling protectively around his torso. Scott watched as his eyes seemed to clear and focus, the dullness leaving and Virgil's usual expressive gaze fixed upon his own worried blue orbs. He watched as his siblings features contorted in agony, feeling powerless to do anything, his fears ratcheting up another notch as Virgil groaned before whispering, "Scotty, don't feel so good." At the use of his childhood nickname, a word Virgil hadn't used in years, Scott's fears sky rocketed.

"Virgil, tell me what's wrong? Where does it hurt? Virgil, come on stay with me, tell me what's hurting?" Scott pleaded, but it was no use, Virgil's moment of lucidity was gone, replaced by pain that had him desperately trying to curl into himself.

Scott reached for his dropped pack and maneuvered Virgil's head to rest upon it before slipping out from underneath his sibling. He needed to reassess his brother's condition, a gnawing feeling that he had missed something blossoming within his mind. He spoke softly to the Thunderbird 2 pilot as he worked, gently probing his siblings frame, his fingers brushing over the bruises that littered his torso, searching for any signs of what could be wrong, Virgil curling instinctively and groaning all the more as Scott found a particularly sensitive spot; his fears increasing as realization of what this could mean hit.

All formalities forgotten Scott opened his com and shouted, "Scott to base, Scott to base." Knowing he needn't call the others as John would hear him and automatically patch them through.

"Scott what's the matter? What's happened?" His Father's voice answered immediately, knowing that for Scott to have called as he had something had changed in Virgil's condition, something serious.

"Father, Virgil's getting worse, his condition is deteriorating. I found a new problem and I don't think we can risk the journey back home. You need to find us somewhere safe to take him, get them to prep for surgery. I think I may have missed something in my initial assessment."

"Scott, calm down and walk me through it. I know this will be hard, but try and treat this as though it is just a normal rescue."

Scott bit down an angry retort as he listened to his father's words, his mind fuming at being asked to do such a thing, this wasn't a normal rescue, this was his brother, this was Virgil; but he knew the older man was right, knew that if this was the other way around and Virgil was in his shoes he would do what needed to be done. He kept back the retort and instead informed his father of what he had now found, leaving out what he had seen and heard Virgil do, that was for another time and place, a private time and place.

"He was lucid briefly, but before I could get any answers from him that lucidity was gone. I could tell he was in more pain though, so I've just assessed him again. I missed something Dad, I missed something."

"Scott, you're not the expert, unfortunately that's Virgil's field; you did the best you could. Your Brother would be the first one to tell you that."

"I should have examined him better. I. . . . . . . . . . ."

"Scott! This isn't helping Virgil, you have to push aside your feeling for now and think of him. Now what have you found that has worried you so."

"Okay, okay. I think there's a bleed internally, he's suffering pain in his torso, and it's become more rigid than it was before. I think we need to get him professional help as soon as we can. In my opinion I don't think we should attempt the journey home."

"Scott, be honest with me. Is this you talking as a brother, or as an International Rescuer?"

"Dad, don't make me answer that. Don't make me risk Virgil's life."

"I wish I didn't have to Son, but you know the risks involved with any of us being admitted to any facility. Gordon just reported in he can hear you, they're just around the corner, and Tintin and Brains are already heading your way, they should be there before you get topside. As commander, between all of you, do you think you could stabilize him until you get home?"

A battle raged within Scott, his natural brotherly instincts wanting to get Virgil the help he needed immediately, but the commander in him disagreed, and deep down he knew the commander was right; hell even Virgil would agree if he could. They couldn't take the risk; they would have to journey home.

To Be Continued. . . . . . . . . . . . .

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**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . That's all for now folks! Thanks for taking time out to read this chapter. Catch you soon, Peanut x**


	10. Chapter 10

**Desolation, Destruction, Danger and Despair.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . . The mood is somber, it's not a good day, and it's about to get worse as a call comes in for help.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . . Not mine just loaning, I promise to return in one piece . . . . . . . well eventually, and maybe dented a little bit.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . . It seems as though I have an apology in every chapter I write these days, but this one I wish with all my heart I didn't have to write. This chapter had been sitting on my laptop, ready to be fine-tuned and posted, when I got an emergency call from back home stating that my Mum was seriously ill and I needed to return asap; I made it home, but unfortunately my Mum never awoke and passed peacefully a few days later. She loved Thunderbirds and this story was originally started as a birthday gift for her, to be finished and presented to her in May of next year, the only work of mine she never got to read, so in her honor I dedicate this chapter, and all future writings to her, and pray that wherever she's now resting she finds this story and it brings her the enjoyment my other works did when she was here. Gillian x**

**A.N.2. . . . . . . . . . . Thanks to all who took time out to read the last chapter, and to those who reviewed also. Here's chapter 10, I hope that you enjoy this one also. Peanut x**

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Scott ran a weary hand over his face, as he checked the numbers for what seemed like the thousandth time, dismay clear within his eyes as he noted that yet again there had been no change to his brother's condition, he could only be thankful that Virgil had so far not gotten any worse on the long trip back home. He glanced at his watch, wanting to rip the device from his wrist when it told him only five minutes had passed since he had last checked; only the fact that it held the communicator stopping him from doing so, he wanted something close at hand should his sibling's fragile state shatter even more.

He fought back sleep, fought against the exhaustion that wanted him to surrender, to lay his body down upon the bed next to his brother's in Thunderbird 2's sick bay. Instead he tried to focus on his youngest brother flying his own precious Bird back home, and the payback he would inflict if Alan so much as put a scratch upon her; but that thought brought him little joy, not while Virgil was laid up as he was, and with little else to think off, his mind wandered back to the mine, and their desperate dash to get Virgil out of there.

True to his Father's words, Gordon and Alan had turned the corner within minutes of Scott shutting down communications with the island; the three siblings working efficiently together to prepare Virgil for the trauma of the trek ahead, although Scott's anger threatened to surface as yet again as the medical scanner he had requested Gordon to bring once more refused to work, Brain's concluding that there must be something in the mine interfering with it, leaving the Tracy's still in the dark as to what was going on in the middle brother's torso. In the end they all agreed they would have to take the chance and move Virgil anyway; they needed to get him back to the big green rescue craft and its state of the art medical bay, and after that they needed to get him home.

The journey back up through the mine was a tortuous experience for all concerned; Virgil moaning pitifully each time he was jostled, his equilibrium thrown off by the numerous shots he'd taken to his head, so that with each unsteady gait the others made, nausea rose once more within him and set back off the chain reaction he had suffered earlier, pain quelling sick, pain quelling sick; Scott cursing up a string as he was powerless to take his siblings pain away, unwilling to risk giving the injured man anything too strong until they returned to Thunderbird 2, he needed him drug free should the scanners there show up the need for surgery; Gordon and Alan, stoically trudging along, each taking some of their siblings weight, each dismayed and a little scared, Gordon in particular, never having seen a brother this injured before, never having seen his oldest sibling's calm façade fall before.

It was a relief to all concerned when they finally reached the opening Virgil had first made with the Mole, all three walking brother's glad when they glanced down and found Virgil to be unconscious once more; whilst the winch back up would be smooth, getting him over the lip at the end would not be. Virgil though stayed under through the process, stayed under through the trip back up to the surface in the Mole, even stayed under as they emerged into the darkness of a Russian night. Brains and TinTin were there to meet them, just as their Father had predicted; the engineer, in a move that when they looked back later would surprise them all, quickly taking over control, ordering a shaken Alan to pack up Mobile Control and fly Thunderbird 1 back to base, before asking an equally shaken Gordon to do the same with the Mole and Thunderbird 2; Tintin would fly back the untraceable private jet they had flown there, leaving himself to help the oldest Tracy son take care of Virgil. Moving to help Scott, they'd made their way quickly into the med bay; Scott stifling a sigh of relief when all equipment worked as it should do, and his sibling finally could be checked out thoroughly.

The list of injuries, when Brains had finally finished read like a medical journal, some Scott knew about, other's leaving him reeling. Broken ribs that had caused a partial lung collapse and some internal bleeding, though at the moment not life threatening; damage to the tricep muscle of his left arm, the wound showing major signs of infection despite Scott's best attempts as cleaning it, with no flesh left to stitch close the wound a skin graft would have to be made, and a disfiguring scar a permanent reminder; a broken right ankle; damage to the calf muscle on the same leg, thirty stitches required to close the wound site; three separate head injuries, one of which was causing Brains some concern, as it bled slowly into Virgil's brain, a monitor keeping check over it, as all concerned prayed the bleed would stop itself and Virgil wouldn't have to go under the knife; severe concussion, Virgil's pupil's drastically uneven and sluggish to respond to light; three broken fingers; another open wound to Virgil's back that Scott had missed and was now reprimanding himself for; hypothermia, blood loss, low blood pressure, shock, the list went on with more minor injuries, but Scott had stopped listening. Brains had prepped his brother in Two's sick bay and inserted a chest tube to extract the air that had gather in Virgil's chest cavity, allowing the lung to re-inflate, setting his fingers and ankle, grafting and stitching his wounds at the same time; but Virgil was far from stable, was still in serious danger, and as the engineer cleaned himself up he added another problem to the mix; a severe risk of pneumonia setting in, an illness that concerned them all. Would Virgil have the strength to battle that too, along with everything else?

They'd set up the monitors to keep track of the brain bleed, covered the injured man in warming blankets, set up IV's to drain much needed blood and antibiotics, kept a constant check upon his blood pressure, and placed an oxygen mask upon his face; but so far it seemed to be doing little to revive the man. Virgil's stat's remaining the same, and to Scott who knew his brother best, it seemed as though Virgil was giving up, that his brother was refusing to fight back. He'd sat there ever since Brains had finished, gently wiping away the sweat that was pouring from Virgil's infected body, and talking softly to his sibling praying his words would get through, so caught up in his monologues he missed the engineer returning, only realizing he was there when the nervous man placed a hand upon his shoulder and spoke.

"We're approaching the island Scott, you have to prep and strap in for landing."

"I'll be alright here Brains. I don't want Virgil to be alone."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible, you know the policy."

"Stuff the policy, I'm staying here."

"Scott, please."

"No Brains I'm staying here!"

Needing to get the man to his seat, Brain's used a low blow to get his message across. "And how do you think Virgil will feel if you got injured in the landing because you refused to leave his side?"

The result was instantaneous. Guilt, which Brains felt sorry for putting there, clearly written within Scott Tracy's eyes; but it got the reaction Brains needed. Scott brushing a cool cloth once more over Virgil's features before taking his seat and preparing for landing.

The minute they had touched down though, he was back up and at Virgil's side once more. His shoulders set, his game face on, and his mind prepared for the battle ahead. Virgil wanted to give up, Scott could tell, but the eldest Tracy wouldn't let him go without a fight, was prepared to do anything and everything to bring his brother back, and when he did he would put to rest once and for all Virgil's misplaced guilt over their mother's death; his brother had spent enough years, enough birthdays, in silence, alone and in the dark. It was time for him to shout out, see that there were people here who loved him, who never blamed him. It was time for him to come into the light and life once more, just like their mother would want him too.

To Be Continued. . . . . . . . . . . .

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**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . I hope this chapter was okay for you? I'm never the best with hospital and medical scenes, so please forgive me. Will be back soon with more. Peanut x**


	11. Chapter 11

**Desolation, Destruction, Danger and Despair.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . . The mood is somber, it's not a good day, and it's about to get worse as a call comes in for help.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . . Not mine just loaning, I promise to return in one piece . . . . . . . well eventually, and maybe dented a little bit.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . Thanks to everyone who has read this story, reviewed this story, or added this story to their favorites list; to know that someone out there is reading you work, is the biggest motivation in the world. Peanut x**

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Scott felt his bones crack noisily, as he shifted upon the comfortable, but too small, couch placed in the corner of the long term recovery room they had placed Virgil in once they had stabilized him enough. The room had been the middle Tracy brother's idea after watching Gordon suffer for months within a stark and bland, white walled sterile hospital room, with its one tiny window with its dull view of the brick buildings around it, whilst he recovered from his hydrofoil accident. Once they had moved to the island and begun setting up their base it had been Virgil's job, as the most qualified medic amongst them, to create the hospital wing. He had quietly drawn out plans, demolished walls, carefully repopulated foliage, and created not only a state of the art facility, but also this suite with all the creature comforts a recovering patient would need, and the best view of the island and its turquoise waters. It was still a hospital room, still had all the necessary equipment needed to monitor and assist, but you would never know it, new improvements in technology had meant the bulky monitors could be removed and instead all vital information was stored on one powerful tablet, all the lines and IV's carefully and considerately blended into the woodwork that surrounded the bed, making the room look more like an upscale hotel than the lifesaving dwelling it was. Scott looked around the room now as he made his way slowly over to where Virgil lay, so still, so quiet, and softly snorted to himself; how ironic that Virgil had created this space so that other's suffering could be eased slightly, yet he was the first one to use it.

Once close enough, he reached out and picked up the tablet, wondering like he did every day, if today the information given would be different. He didn't really need to look, could see from the sweat that dripped down Virgil's face, and the rosy hue to his cheeks, that his brother was still consumed by the fever and pneumonia that they had hoped he wouldn't catch, but had gripped him tight anyway; the vitals when they popped up confirming what his eyes could already see. He placed the tablet back down and placed his weary body within the chair next to Virgil's bed, the chair which like the couch now felt like a second home to him. Picking up his siblings limp hand, he settled down to pass another day of pleading and praying and hoping. Jeff finding him still in that spot two hours later, when he and Brains entered the room.

"Scott. Son, go and get some proper rest. Have a shower, eat something. Please Son; this can't be doing you any good."

"No. Maybe later."

"Scott, please." Jeff pleaded.

"No Dad, he could wake up, and I won't be here, and I need to be here. I need to be here when he does so that I can begin to make this okay again."

"Scott, we'll call you if there's any change I promise, please take a break from this room, shower, eat, sleep, anything. Don't make me make this an order."

Scott looked up at his Father, his eyes water filled and pleading, but one look at the Tracy patriarchs features told him this was a battle he was not about to win. "Fine, I'll shower and eat, but that's it. You call me if there's any change."

Jeff watched his eldest son as he left, noted the defeated slump of his shoulders, and the slow shuffle of his walk, looking towards Brains he spoke once Scott was out of earshot. "I'm losing them both my friend, I'm losing them both."

Scott made his way from the infirmary wing, and up the flight of stairs that led to the main part of the house. He started to go towards the kitchen, his stomach growling so loud he was sure the sensors in Thunderbird 5 would have picked up his distress, but as he got closer and the smells began to filter through it was all he could do to keep his stomach from rebelling against him, turning the opposite way, he instead headed for his rooms, maybe a shower would help.

He closed and locked the door behind him once he had finally reached his sanctuary, before slowly divesting his clothes as he walked towards his private bathroom. Turning the water on he waited for it to reach the right temperature before stepping beneath the spray, allowing the scalding water to pulse down upon his shoulders, his arms stretched out, palms pressing against the cool tiles; unbeknownst to him, mirroring a posture Virgil himself had struck the morning of the mine collapse. He allowed his thoughts to run rampant, berating and blaming himself, wondering what he could have done differently, wishing he had done things differently. He could cope with the most serious of disasters out there, sinking oil tankers, nuclear plant fires, out of control planes and trains, mudslides, landslides, hell even avalanches; but this, this was killing him. He hated not being able to control what was happening, hated not being able to get through to Virgil, hated not being able to tell his sibling that he was needed here, that he was wanted here, that he needed to fight; because Scott now, without a shadow of a doubt, knew that Virgil was giving up. He hadn't shared his feelings with anyone else, hadn't wanted to burden them with his thoughts, but it was beginning to eat away at him and he knew he could no longer carry this burden alone, knew he would have to tell the only person he now believed could bring Virgil back. Soaping and rinsing quickly, he toweled dry and changed into clean clothes before forgoing food and returning back to the infirmary.

Brains had just finished off running yet more tests as he stepped back through the door, his Father only stopping from cursing him out once more because he needed to hear if there was any change; Brains though had nothing new to add, and sensing the tension between the two Tracy's quickly retreated. Once the scientist had gone Scott halted his Father's words and quickly spoke his own before he chickened out and backed down.

"Dad, I need to get this out, I need to say this, so please, please let me get through this, please don't interrupt. I don't know if you're feeling the same, I don't even know if the others are feeling the same, but its clear to me and I think you're the only one that can fix this."

"Fix what Son?" Jeff asked, his face looking older from the concerned lines that crossed it.

Scott took a moment, his hand reaching out for Virgil's as though he could gather strength from him. "He's giving up Dad. He's not fighting. It's as if he doesn't want to be here anymore, as if he doesn't want to be a part of this family anymore. It's just like he got after Mom died, when he took the whole blame for her death and placed it upon his shoulders. I know you don't want to talk about this, know you'd just like to forget about the past, and scrape it all under the carpet; but we can't this time, it's gone on too long. He should have been consoled then, should have been told then, but we were all grieving and as time went by we all didn't want to see that as it got easier for us it didn't for him; we all wanted to believe he'd stopped blaming himself, so we stopped seeing what was always there before our eyes. He never got better Dad; he just got better at hiding it."

"Scott. . . . . . . . ."

"No Dad, not this time, I can't lose a Brother, I can't lose Virgil. You have to fix this; you have to bring him back. Too many Birthdays have gone by with him hiding in his room, pretending he's working on some piece of music or art, when we all know he lies upon that damn couch and wishes he could just fall asleep until the next day arrives. He needs to know he's not to blame, he needs to know that he's wanted, that he's loved, and he needs to hear it from you."

"I've tried in the past. . . . . . . . . . ."

No you haven't, be honest with yourself, you know you haven't. Dad, I don't blame you, I know how hard it is to look at Virgil sometimes and not see Mom there, but you have to try. He needs you now, he needs you to tell him, convince him, he wasn't to blame. You know he wasn't, so why is it so hard to tell him that?"

Jeff turned away from his two sons and looked out of the window, his thoughts in turmoil. He knew everything Scott said was true; knew he had treated Virgil wrong. He loved all of his sons dearly, would give up his life for any of them, so why could he not talk to his middle child? Why had he let this nonsense fester for so long? Deep down he knew why. Deep down he knew Scott was right, it was because every time he looked at Virgil, he saw he dead wife's features. Sure they were present on all his children, but in Virgil they were the strongest, and in his spirit she shone brightly. What Scott didn't know though, was that deep, deep down, a tiny little piece of him did blame Virgil; resented him for living whilst she died. He knew it was stupid to feel that way, knew that he should have quashed the feeling years ago, but he hadn't and now look where they were. His wife was already dead, and if he didn't change, if he didn't act, his son was about to follow. He looked out at the view that had inspired Virgil to place this room here, finding some inner peace before turning back around and facing his eldest son. Setting his shoulders, he spoke with determination. "I'll talk to him, I'll get through to him, I'll bring him back."

To Be Continued. . . . . . . . . . . .

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**A.N. . . . . . . . . . Thanks again for stopping by. I'm sorry this took so long to post, getting through my first Christmas without my Mum turned out to be harder than I thought it was going to be. Will be back soon, Peanut x**


	12. Chapter 12

**Desolation, Destruction, Danger and Despair.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . . The mood is somber, it's not a good day, and it's about to get worse as a call comes in for help.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . . Not mine just loaning, I promise to return in one piece . . . . . . . well eventually, and maybe dented a little bit.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . Thanks to everyone who has stuck by me on this fic; here's chapter12, I hope that you enjoy. Peanut x**

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_Previously. . . . . . . . . . . . What Scott didn't know though, was that deep, deep down, a tiny little piece of him did blame Virgil; resented him for living whilst she died. He knew it was stupid to feel that way, knew that he should have quashed the feeling years ago, but he hadn't and now look where they were. His wife was already dead, and if he didn't change, if he didn't act, his son was about to follow. He looked out at the view that had inspired Virgil to place this room here, finding some inner peace before turning back around and facing his eldest son. Setting his shoulders, he spoke with determination. "I'll talk to him, I'll get through to him, I'll bring him back."_

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Jeff had thought it would be easy. He'd sat upon the couch, that Scott had spent the previous night's sleeping upon, after his eldest son had left him and started to think about what he was about to say. The words though wouldn't come, his mind blanking out on him, and for such a bright and intelligent man, it took him a long time to realize why. This wasn't something he could map and plan out as though it was some new piece of machinery, or an intricate takeover of another company; these were his feelings, this was his son, his words would have to be heartfelt and come from deep inside, not rehearsed and forced. He wished, not for the first time since Virgil had been in this room, that his son had thought to add a bar in here, a scotch sounding like a grand idea right about now; a little boost of courage to get him started. But deep down he knew that drinking wouldn't really help, knew that Dutch courage wouldn't bring forth the true words he needed to get out. He had to do this sober, he had to find the courage from inside himself and set free words that were a long time coming.

He moved to the bed and his son that lay so still upon it, his hand reaching out to curl around the fingers, that so like his Mother's had, held so much artistic talent; his free hand moving to brush away errant strands of too long hair away from closed eyes, that when upon were windows to his son's soul; Virgil never able to hide how he was feeling if you were able to look into them.

Hooking a leg around a nearby office chair, he slowly pulled it towards him, raising it to a more suitable height before sitting down. Bringing his hands together, he clasped Virgil's own between them, his head bending forward, his lips resting upon his son's warm digits for a moment before the words long since needed to hear, were finally spoken.

"I'm sorry Son, I'm so very sorry. I should never have allowed this to go on as long as it has, should never have allowed those thoughts to fester within you to begin with; but I was so consumed with grief, I didn't listen when other's warned me, didn't listen as they told me what was happening right before my eyes, didn't listen when they told me it would only get worse if I didn't talk to you, didn't instill in you a belief that you weren't to blame, that you were never to blame."

"I missed her so much, wanted her back so badly, I was blinded to everything else around me, blinded to what everyone else was feeling. I couldn't believe she was gone, kept thinking it was all a bad dream and she'd come walking back through the door at any time. I was in denial, I couldn't see it at the time, but I must have been, I didn't want to believe my beautiful wife, your wonderful mother had left us."

"Anger came next, and resentment, and I'll be honest Son, I did for some time blame you, resent you. I blamed you for wasting time, I resented you for living. I tried not to feel that way, tried so hard to quash down those thoughts, but every time I looked at you, I saw her and remembered; so, even though I was dying inside at doing so, I pushed you away. I allowed you to believe what your mind was telling you."

"By the time the anger had dispersed and was replaced by depression, it was too late, the seed had been firmly planted in your mind, and I just didn't care. I threw myself into my work, built up my company, stayed long hours, sometimes even overnight, sometimes days, weeks, anything to keep me away from the constant reminders of her. When I was home I'd lock myself away, sparing precious few moments with Scott, John, Gordon, and Alan, but never with you, never with you. I don't know if you'd already begun to feel what I was feeling, but whenever I was at home, you'd find excuses to stay away. Did you know son? Could you tell?"

"I'm so sorry Virgil, for numerous things; for not reassuring you when you were a child; for not setting you straight; for not being the parent you needed; for blaming you. I'm so very sorry. I need to tell you why I did what I did, but for that I need you awake son. I can't be a coward anymore, I can't be. I need to be a man and tell you this to your face, so please Virgil, please come back to us so I can begin to make things right again."

A feeling of warmth upon his hand, and a softly murmuring voice, broke through the hazy shroud that surrounded him, forcing awareness upon him once again. He knew what the shroud was, the aftermath of a drug induced sleep; could feel the lethargy that coursed throughout his body. Pain registered next, and he fought to control it, to breathe through it, but it was too much, too intense for his depleted and exhausted body, and he could feel the pull of unconsciousness dragging him back to the darkness that promised a pain free existence, that promised an escape from the troubles that had plagued him for so many years. He began to give in once more, began to surrender, began to return to the dark place where she lived, the dark place where he felt nothing but love, but she stopped him, she pushed and pulled him the other way; yes that way promised pain, but there was something else, something important he needed to hear, something important she wanted him to hear; so he gave in to her, allowed his mind to pull him back, pushed through the pain so that he could listen.

He almost gave himself away when realization of who was talking to him registered but he stilled his body, even though the pain screamed at him to call out, and just lay silent and listened; listened as his Father bared his soul to him, a mixture of differing emotions washing over him; guilt and remorse and anger and sadness. He still felt so much guilt, it ate away at him each and every day; every time he caught his Father's sly glances his way, or even worse every time he caught his Father looking at the wedding photograph he kept hidden in the top drawer of his desk. He felt guilty for making them wait whilst he finished a painting, felt guilty that he had delayed their travel plans, if he hadn't they would have probably passed by that place before the avalanche hit. He felt remorse that he had caused this, that he had survived and his sweet and loving Mother had died, that he had created a situation that had taken her away from his Brother's and Father. He felt anger that, even though he felt it was the truth, his Father felt the way he did, that he blamed him too, that he even wished that Virgil was the one who perished and not his Mother. He felt sadness that after all these years his Father still felt that way. He couldn't help the tears that fell from his eyes, pain both physical and mental engulfing him; couldn't help the gasp that escaped his mouth. He wanted to crawl back into the darkness, wanted to return to where pain was nonexistent, but he was awake now and the pain was intensifying and no matter what he tried he couldn't escape it.

He flinched as strong arms grasped his own, halting the straining muscles, before soothing with gentle strokes. More soft words fell from his Father's mouth, words that begged and pleaded at him to calm down, words that swore everything was going to be okay; the touch and the tone eventually getting through. He couldn't stop the tears though, they fell in rivulets from his eyes, dampening the top of his gown, and creating a chill where they landed, that sent shivers through his abused body, until a strong hand gently began to brush them away. I took him a moment to realize his Father was talking again, took him a moment to arrange his confused mind so that he could hear and understand, his hand reaching out for his Dad's once he did so.

"I'm so sorry Son, I'm so sorry. I was wrong, I was so very wrong."

He tried to get his own words to form, but all that would come out was croaks and groans, so instead he shook his head. Jeff though understood what he meant, and even though he could see his son was still fever riddled and obviously hurting, this time he would not allow those thoughts to fester.

"I was Son, I was so very wrong. Your Mother's accident was no more your fault than it was my own, or your Mother's, or Scott's, or John's, or Gordon's, or your Grandparents. It was an accident, a freak of nature, that's all, and I should never have acted the way I did." At seeing Virgil still look unconvinced he added. "Virgil, Scott was the ones who wanted to go skiing, Gordon was the one who wanted to go where there was snow, your Grandparents were the ones who chose the location, John was the one who wanted to go the way we did, your Mother was the one who wanted two separate cars instead of a minibus, and I was the one who insisted we leave a couple of days early because I had a meeting I needed to get back for; so you see, we all played some part in what happened next."

"Then why blame me?" Virgil managed to croak out, a series of coughing fits igniting once the words passed his throat, bringing yet more tears to his eyes. He wallowed in the comfort as his Father pulled him to his chest and gently rubbed his back, wanted to stay there forever, but he needed to know.

"You just reminded me so much of her; every little thing you did, or said just brought the sadness back and I hated feeling that way, I just found it easier to blame you than to face up to the fact that it was nobody's fault. I was wrong Virgil, I was wrong, and I can only hope that one day you'll be able to forgive me."

Virgil sucked on some ice chips before he replied, he was mentally and physically shattered but he needed to get this out, needed for this to be said. "I don't know whether I can, I honestly don't know. I've spent most of my life waiting for you to tell me what you just have, spent most of my life living under this shadow and not knowing why. I just needed you to tell me it wasn't my fault; that it was an accident; that everything would be alright; but now you have and I don't know how I feel. I've felt an outsider for so long Dad, a part of this family, yet at the same time not. I was a child, I blamed myself, I didn't need you to blame me also, I needed you to console me, I needed you to comfort me, and I needed you to love me." The last words fell from his lips around guttural sobs; sobs that wracked his frame and sent the pain gushing once more. He found he couldn't catch his breath, found himself struggling to pull in much needed oxygen, found the dark encroaching, only for it to rescind as much needed comfort engulfed him.

"I'm sorry Son; I never meant to make you feel that way I promise. I just couldn't cope with my grief and instead of getting help; I wallowed in it and hurt those I loved. You should know this though Virgil, and please never doubt it for a second, I do love you. I love you more than you could possibly know. I need you to come back to us Son, I need you to want to be a part of this family again, I need you to work with me at sorting out this mess I created, I need for us to be whole once again."

Virgil felt torn; he so desperately wanted to believe they could make this right again, but I part of him wondered if it was too late, if too much water had passed under the bridge. He loved his Father though, and he loved his Family, and he would do anything for them, but could he take this chance? He looked into his Father's eyes and saw the raw desperation there, and knew without a doubt he had to try. "Okay, we'll try." He whispered around a jaw cracking yawn.

"Okay, okay we will." Jeff replied his relief and joy evident in the smile that graced his face. He looked at his son's still battered and obviously exhausted features, and wished he could do something to ease his pain. "We'll talk again later Virgil, you need to get better first, which means you need to rest. Go to sleep, I'll still be here when you wake up." He watched as Virgil fought against the sleep he so desperately needed, before exhaustion won the battle and he succumbed to its folds. "Things will change Virgil, I promise you, things will change."

To Be Continued. . . . . . . . . .

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**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . Arrrgh! A lot of angst there, I hope I did it justice? Let me know what you think. As always thanks for taking time out to read, will be back soon with more, catch you later, Peanut x**


	13. Chapter 13

**Desolation, Destruction, Danger and Despair.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . . The mood is somber, it's not a good day, and it's about to get worse as a call comes in for help.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . . Not mine just loaning, I promise to return in one piece . . . . . . . well eventually, and maybe dented a little bit.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . Thanks to everyone who took time out to read, and to review the previous chapter. Without further ado, here's chapter 13. Peanut x**

**For My Mum.**

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_Previously. . . . . . . . . _

"_Okay, okay we will." Jeff replied his relief and joy evident in the smile that graced his face. He looked at his son's still battered and obviously exhausted features, and wished he could do something to ease his pain. "We'll talk again later Virgil, you need to get better first, which means you need to rest. Go to sleep, I'll still be here when you wake up." He watched as Virgil fought against the sleep he so desperately needed, before exhaustion won the battle and he succumbed to its folds. "Things will change Virgil, I promise you, things will change."_

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One year later.

As he looked at the plans on the computer screen, yet still saw nothing, Jeff decided enough was enough; it was that time of the year, that time when he could never think straight. He needed a drink. He needed a smoke. It had been a hard year for all concerned, since the rescue that very nearly ended with him losing a son, a hard year for Virgil especially. It was nearly two months, after his first talk with his son, before Virgil was finally allowed to leave the long term recovery room, and return to his own suite; the pneumonia Brains had been fearing taking hold of his son, and no matter what they fought it with, it refused to give up without a fight, weakening his son even further, and halting the progress he had been making, his other wounds taking even more time to heal. It was another two months before Brains released him for duty, the head injuries taking their own toll, knocking his son out with dizzy spells, and debilitating headaches, where all he could do to ease the pain was to darken his room and try to sleep it out; but the darkness just reminded him of his ordeal, and his fear of closed dark spaces grew.

Nightmares had also plagued the middle Tracy son, nightmares of those closed spaces, of the dark, and of dying, invading his sleep most nights for months afterwards; Virgil taking out his frustrations in his sketch books, until Jeff had finally, reluctantly, agreed that Virgil needed help, professional help that they as a family couldn't offer, Penelope finding an answer for them, that would help his son, yet would still keep the secrets of international rescue safe, Virgil phone conferencing with a psychologist twice a week. It seemed to help, and the nightmares lessened, only happening now after particularly bad rescues, the sketch books though remained, one in particular, permanently attached to his son whenever he had a free moment, and if he had been protective of his work before, he was downright paranoid about it now.

Jeff had panicked the first rescues Virgil had been allowed to go on, his brothers also watching him worriedly, until his son had quietly complained, telling them in no uncertain terms, to back off, something that they reluctantly did, although they all still watched him from the corner of their eyes. Tomorrow though would be a year to the day of that disastrous rescue, and as the day had drawn closer, Jeff knew that the mother henning had returned with a vengeance.

It was quiet as Jeff walked through the house, from his study to the family lounge, a quick glance at his watch informing him just how much time he had wasted staring blankly at jumbled words and mismatched lines; his boys would surely have retired by now, well except an earthbound John, who would no doubt be star gazing. Entering the large space, he silently cursed his sons for leaving the lights on, all be it dimly. He poured himself a double, before turning to the open doors that led to the patio, mess screens keeping the night time invaders firmly outside, his unlit cigar begging to be lit; stopping as he heard a faint noise.

Walking over to the doors, he couldn't help the smile that graced his face, as with whiskey glass held firmly in one hand, and cigar clenched tightly between his teeth, he watched four of his sons trying to decorate the pool area, all whilst trying to be stealthy and silent; something they were not being successful at, no matter how hard they tried to shush one another, whispered curses and shouts to be quiet gradually increasing in volume. Worried about waking the one son he could not see, whose room was close by, Jeff reached out, with his free hand to open the screen, to let his presence be known, and to ask them to keep the noise down, only to stop as the voice of the son he was worried about, spoke softly from the couch he had just walked past.

"Leave them be Dad, they're having fun." Virgil said as he pushed himself up into a sitting position, sketchpad resting against his knees and pencil in hand.

"Virgil, I didn't see you there. It's late, what are you doing still up?"

"I sometimes think they forget who it is they're trying to surprise. They would have succeeded if they'd waited until tomorrow morning." Virgil replied, making reference to the fact he was not a morning person.

"You'll have to forgive them Virgil; they just want to make this day happy for you, especially after last year."

"I know." His son answered, a deep sigh escaping the younger man's lips.

Sensing an undercurrent of sadness within his child's voice, Jeff decided to query it. "Virgil, are you okay? Are you okay with them doing this? If you're not, I'll tell them, they wouldn't mind."

Virgil shrugged his shoulders. "I guess I don't mind."

Jeff moved over to the coffee table that separated the two massive couch's, sitting down on the solid oak surface he tried to gage his son's mood by looking into his eyes, only to have Virgil look away from him. "You don't sound so sure. Listen son, it's your day, if you want it to be quiet, if you want to do your own thing, that's up to you, we'd understand."

Still not looking up, his fingers toying with the brightly colored cover of a sketchpad Jeff had seen him drawing in a lot recently; Virgil took his time before answering. "No, it's not that, it's just. . . . . . . . . . . ." His words though wouldn't come out and he trailed off, the sentence unfinished.

"It's just what son?"

Virgil sighed deeply, his legs drawing up closer to his chest, his free hand rubbing unconsciously at the scar tissue that ran up his calf; Jeff beginning to think he wasn't going to answer until. "It's just. . . . . . . . . . . . . It's just that it's been so long, I'm not sure I know how to do this, I'm not sure I remember how to act, and. . . . . . . . . . . . ."

Jeff swallowed down the guilt Virgil's words had arisen within him, his mind remembering all the years he had ignored his son's special day. "And what?" Jeff eventually asked, not wanting to address Virgil's first concerns just yet for fear that his son would clam up altogether.

It took Virgil a while to reply, his head bowed to his chest, his voice a mere whisper. "I'm afraid. I feel as though I'll be betraying Mom by celebrating and being happy."

"Oh son, you wouldn't be, she wouldn't want you to be unhappy, said want you to have fun, to celebrate; I know for a fact she'll have strong words for me when we meet again, after the way I've treated you."

Jeff could see the battle raging within his son as he spoke his words, and could only hope that he had gotten through, believing he had done when Virgil finally looked up at him.

"Dad?"

"Yes son."

"Dad, I need to ask you something."

"Okay, ask away."

"Would you mind. . . . . . . . . . . what I mean to say is, if it's okay with you. . . . . . . . . . . . damn." Virgil swore as his frustration and nerves grew. "Sorry, I didn't mean to swear, I just. . . . . . . I just. . . . . . . ."

"Virgil, don't bottle things inside, you have to get them out, nothing you say will offend me, please son just speak what's on your mind."

"I don't want to upset you."

"And what makes you think you will do that?"

"Because." Virgil paused before adding. " Because I wanted to know if we could celebrate Mom tomorrow too." His words were rushed, his head bowing once more, his voice soft, his mind already preparing for the backlash he expected to hear.

Jeff's head also bowed, his posture mirroring his son's. "Virgil. . . . . . . . . . ." He started, only to be interrupted once more.

"It's okay, don't worry about it, we don't have to, I just thought. . . . . . . . . . . . . . no I didn't think, just forget I even mentioned it.

"Virgil. . . . . . . . . . ." Jeff tried again, only to have his words drowned out as his son once again talked over him.

"It's okay, it's okay. Ummm I'm kinda tired, if it's okay with you I think I'll call it a night." Virgil stuttered. Not waiting for a response he stood quickly, his hands grasping his sketchbook, pencils, glass, and music player.

Jeff grabbed for his son's arm, meaning to still him so that he could tell his son what he wanted to say, but the move startled Virgil, the younger man only just managing to keep hold of his glass and music player; the sketchpad and pencils not so fortunate, tumbling and clattering to the floor, the book falling open to the page Virgil had been working on, the image captured there drawing Jeff's eye as he bent down to help pick the items up. Seeing his father still in his movements and knowing what it was that had stopped him, Virgil lunged for the book, but it was too late, his Father's reflexes quicker. Unable to witness the disappointment within his Dad's eyes, Virgil slumped back down to the couch, his knees drawing up, his arms encircling them, his face hidden, waiting once more for a backlash, instead silence engulfed the room. After a few minutes Virgil risked a glance, and found his Father staring reverently at the sketches he had produced, softly he spoke.

"I saw her, you know. I saw her when I was down in that place. She begged me to hold on, to keep fighting. I didn't want to, I was so cold and hurting, I wanted to go with her; but she just kept telling me it wasn't my time, she just kept telling me that I was needed here more."

"She was right son." Jeff croaked out, his voice breaking as he choked back sobs. He couldn't look up at Virgil, couldn't take his eyes away from the image his son had created, it was so lifelike it popped from the page, and if he hadn't known any better he would have sworn it was a photograph, Virgil's strokes were that pure; but that photograph was locked away safe. "Virgil, how did you do this? How did you know about this place, this night?"

Virgil had no answer, just shrugged his shoulders. "She was so beautiful that night, she shone, and I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. She loved this place, would insist we travel back every year; it was her place, her place to celebrate anything and everything." Jeff couldn't help the tears that fell in earnest now, reluctantly placing the book down he moved over to his still worried son, placing an arm around his shoulder and pulling him tightly in. "I'm glad she sent you back Virgil, things would have fallen apart with you gone. I'm glad she sent you back so that we can begin to make things right again, starting tomorrow. You're right son, we should celebrate her life too, that's what she would have wanted; and as for not knowing how too, well we'll work through that together. It'll be okay Virgil, I promise."

He smiled as he watched the worry ease from his son's features, watched as a genuine smile lit up eyes that were so very much like his Mother's. He held the hold for a while longer, not willing to allow Virgil to go, seeking comfort and offering it at the same time; as Virgil tried to hold in a jaw cracking yawn though, he knew finally relented. "C'mon son, get yourself off to bed, your brother's will no doubt be up at the crack of dawn to wake you up in their own unique ways."

He watched as Virgil stumbled to his feet, the relinquishing of information he had obviously been holding inside allowing him to finally relax, and exhaustion was now evident in his stance. He slowly walked to the door, stopping before leaving and turning back to Jeff, walking back he held out his hand, the sketchbook held in its grasp. "I want you to have this; Mom would want you to have this." He handed the book to his Father before turning and finally going to bed.

A delicate breeze drifted through the open patio doors, stirring the soft drapes, and filling the room with the scent of the ocean and the bouquet of flowers, made all the more potent by the fresh rainfall that had coated the island overnight. It roused the man sleeping upon the queen sized bed, bringing goose bumps to his bare skin and making him pull the sheets up higher until all that could be seen were a few disheveled tufts of chocolate brown locks. The sound of distant waves crashing against rocks competed against the gentle noise of the man's breathing in the otherwise quiet of the room until the soft chords of classical piano beckoned for a new day to begin. A scarred, yet tanned and muscular arm quickly reached out, digits which normally sought out snooze fumbling to find the volume button, a need to hear the sonata that brought such happy thoughts and memories.

Disturbing the sheets slightly, Virgil Tracy turned beneath the covers, the hand that had sneaked out, returning to be placed over his eyes blocking out what little sunlight filtered through the cotton, whilst at the same time hiding from sight eyes that had turned damp as the first chords were struck; for the first time in a long time though the tears were happy ones. With a contented sigh, he gradually removed the sheet further down his body, knowing from past experience, and from his Dad's ominous words last night, that if he didn't show some sort of sign that he was awake and up, one or more of his brother's would soon be paying him an unwelcome visit, the movement stopping as he heard his door creak open. Footsteps thundered across his floor before he was soon crushed by a Tracy mountain of limbs and torsos; his laughter infectious and soon they were all joining in.

Later after finally being allowed to get up and shower he stood looking at the photo of his Mother upon his nightstand, and with a smile whispered, "Happy Birthday Mom." before leaving to join the others for breakfast. He didn't see the curtains billow, didn't smell the faint traces of lilac's that scented the air, didn't hear the breeze as it blew, bringing with it a sound, that if he had heard it, he would have sworn said "Happy Birthday Virgil."

The End.

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**A.N. . . . . . . . . . Well that's all folks! I hope that you enjoyed the ride, and I thank you all for sticking with me throughout this story. Hope to be back soon with something new, catch you later, Peanut x**


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